Harry Potter and the Underground's Saviour
by TheZorker
Summary: Not much would make an Azkaban escape become second page news among the Wizards of the United Kingdom, but the freeing of the Monsters under Mount Ebott would do it. And thus Frisk becomes one of Hogwart's newest, first year, students...
1. The Train Ride Alone

There was a child standing alone in King's Cross station.

This wasn't a particularly noteworthy thing. There were loads of people, children included, bustling in all directions, in the British Rail station on this particular day.

This child, however, was holding a wheeled suitcase in one hand and a train ticket in the other. She stared at it in growing confusion. It said, in plain black and white text: Nine and Three Quarters. When she looked up and looked to her left, there was a sign that was marked as Platform 9. When she looked to her right, the sign was just as plainly marked as Platform 10. And none of the crowd was paying attention to a single lost looking child, it was an uncomfortable, familiar feeling.

She sighed, wishing, not for the first time, that she wasn't going to Hogwarts. Not because she didn't want to learn magic, she did. It wasn't the same magic that she was used to, but it was still magic. It was because she finally had a family after so many years alone. It wasn't the most conventional family - her parents were separated, but that was healing, slowly. After so many years bouncing around orphanages, having a family, simply having _friends_ was something she couldn't let go of easily. She'd only had six weeks.

And they couldn't be here. Maybe that made it easier. Papyrus had driven, in his new convertible; he had repeatedly apologized for having the top up. But it was London, and it was rainy, so that didn't matter too much. Mom had sat with her in the back seat, while Sans sat with his brother up front. They'd had to let her out alone, though. And that wasn't fair... not to her, not to them.

They should have been able to walk to the platform with her. That's how it was supposed to be. That was before she'd even heard of the Ministry of Magic. About how they were not supposed to traumatize "muggles" (And she hated that term, too. How could they keep magic, something with the potential to help millions of people, out of reach of people who needed it?). They'd had wizard escorts when dealing with the majority of humanity (which is how Papyrus got both his car and his driver's license).

Dad hadn't liked it. In his opinion, the difference between being locked away and hiding wasn't very great. But he wasn't going to intentionally antagonize the humans on the surface... not on the first week of being there, anyway.

But that was partially why she was here. She wasn't an ambassador, she was too nervous around groups, and too young for that. Papyrus made for a much better ambassador than she did. But she had an invitation to Hogwarts, to join the 'Wizarding World'. And maybe that would help the monsters join human society in the long run.

But that invitation would mean specifically zero if she couldn't find her train platform. She was running through this line of thinking when she was bumped into from behind by a girl, maybe a year her senior, with red curly hair and bright green eyes. "Oh!" the girl said, in quick apology. "I'm sorry."

Frisk waved her hand, accepting the apology. When she realized that the other girl was carrying a very similar looking packed trunk, she held up her ticket in confusion.

"Oh! Platform nine and three quarters?" the redhead said, winking. "Sure, follow me." So saying, she walked over to a pillar between the two whole number platforms, and... stepped into it.

Blinking in surprise, Frisk walked to the place where the girl had been just a moment before, and pushed against the seemingly solid stone. She was rewarded with a very brief feeling of being out of sync with reality, much like she had felt when she accompanied Sans on one of his "shortcuts", and emerged a second later on, well, platform nine and three quarters, just as advertised. Stumbling, she nearly fell to the floor, only her practice with Undyne had kept her from toppling completely. If this was her introduction to the wizarding world, she was lucky the only person who noticed it was the girl that showed her the entrance.

"Ginny!" a voice called from further down the platform. "Where have you gotten to?" The girl gave a smile, and then hurried to join people that must have been her family. Frisk tried to follow, the girl had been the one friendly face, the one person who had actually talked to her, since she left Mom and her friends. But the girl had been swallowed up by the crowd.

Since she had no one to join, and no one to say goodbye to, Frisk was one of the first aboard the Hogwarts express. She picked an empty compartment, stored her suitcase. She leaned against the window, staring at all the children saying hello to friends and goodbye to family.

It only made her feel more alone.

* * *

It was most likely inevitable that the students on the Hogwarts Express would be discussing not one, but two recent prison breaks, and doing so loudly. There had been an older boy, with pale skin, blond hair, and a pointed sneering face that had emerged from his private box saying loudly how his father had assured him that the recent escapees of Mt. Ebott's barrier would be rounded up and returned to their prison shortly. "They were put down there for a reason, after all!"

He paused in his trip to the dining car to sneer at the student staring at him. She'd changed into her robes earlier than most of the others, maybe as an attempt to fit in. But her robe's lack of house emblem (though it did have a curious marking of three triangles, circle, and what looked like a pair of wings) marked her as a first year, and the wand gripped tightly in her hand was obviously no well polished Ollivander creation. It looked more like some simple tree branch then any kind of symbol for true power. He smirked at the child's cringe, and went on to collect his extra sweets.

The Express chugged on, with Frisk showing next to no emotion, watching the fields and forests race by outside with a dull expression. Around her, her compartment filled by older students she didn't know, other conversation raged. When they were not talking about the release of the Mt. Ebott monsters, it was the escape of Sirius Black from Azkaban...apparently a murderer, or Quidditch, a sport that Frisk had no knowledge of. There was no hope in joining in any of these conversations.

"Would you like something to eat, dear?" asked the woman who pushed the trolley. What Frisk really wanted was a slice of butterscotch and cinnamon pie, but that wasn't available. "That does sound like an interesting mix of tastes," she told Frisk. "Maybe on the way back." Frisk settled for a roast beef sandwich and pumpkin juice... though she wasn't sure how one juiced a pumpkin.

"That'll be seven Sickles," the woman told her. Frisk struggled with that. In the underground, it'd been the sensible ten silver pieces to the gold piece. The seventeen Sickles to the Galleon exchange rate was odd and confusing, but she eventually was convinced she'd gotten the right amount of change. She gave the woman a polite thank you, and returned to staring out the window. The English countryside's green fields zoomed by.

She finally became aware of her surroundings again when the train slowed and lights dimmed. Her curiosity had awakened, as the conversation of other students toned down to a nervous muttering. This informed her that this event was not a usual occurrence. The creature, certainly not a monster, that swooped in had no face, it seemed nothing but floating black cloak with a raised hood. It smelled though. It smelled of death.

It swept that hood this way and that, looking for something that it didn't see. Could it see? It seemed to have some sort of sensing things. When it didn't find what it was looking for, it seemed to focus on her. She could almost feel her soul, red and determined, gird itself for battle. But if there was a silver soul, or a soul of any color in that creature, she couldn't feel it. Any trace of a soul was lost against the inky blackness of its cloak.

It drifted closer, and she was overcome with a memory: A boy left behind, months ago. She could feel the boy's shirt on her hands, the pain in his eyes, the cracking in his voice. It was a scene she saw in her nightmares. The pain of leaving that person behind brought tears to her eyes. The tears ran down her face, just as the boy cried in that memory. And she was forced to shut her eyes, to lose herself to that pain.

The pain of leaving someone to a fate she considered far worse than any death. A life without love, or even hope.

In response, and without prompting, the branch, no, wand, that Frisk held lit its tip with a bright, fire red light. The floating cloak stopped momentarily, confused by this reaction from a child that should be incapacitated. A moment later, the wand emitted a ray of pure flame, striking the cloak and setting it alight. The cloak, in shock and pain of its own, fell back out of the train car. No student saw this, they were all lost in the sorrow of the cloaked figure's attack.

Malfoy had only been half right. This wasn't of the professional looking, highly polished wands found 'Off the rack' at Olivander's. Instead, and for the first time in a generation, Olivander had created a custom wand. The knobbly stick, a relic of Frisk's previous adventure, had been infused with a core the wand maker had never used before. And, although he didn't know it, when the wand was used for a sympathetic purpose, it might have just been one of the most powerful wands he had ever created.

After all, it wasn't every student of Hogwarts that carried a wand powered by her adopted mother's fur.

* * *

Arriving, finally, at Hogwarts, Frisk pulled out her suitcase, and trundled out of the train. She looked around for some hint of where she was supposed to go. She was about to make for the carriages pulled by things that didn't quite look like horses when she heard the shout.

"First years! First years follow me! Your luggage will be taken care of." It was a bigger man than Dad that shouted out to her, a bearded, beady eyed, giant of a man that was _bigger than Dad_. And he was leading the first years to a series of boats. They looked like the River person's boat, though this one had a lantern on the bow.

The sky had cleared, revealing a sky full of stars, and as Hogwarts came into view, Frisk was vividly reminded of the crystal cavern, where they stared with the monster kid (under a shared umbrella) at what they had both agreed was the best view in the Underground. Hogwarts was even bigger than Dad's castle.

There was a splash behind her. Someone had fallen into the water, but the giant of the man didn't seem alarmed. Only a few seconds later, the child was propped back onto the boat by what appeared to be giant tentacle. Was this where Onion-san had ended up? Frisk hoped not. That was the single most surreal conversation she remembered. Frisk pulled the robe tighter around her, the large lake had turned the fall air chilly.

When the boat ride was over, they disembarked and proceeded to the large main door of the castle. The giant-man had been joined by a positively pint sized man, scarcely bigger than Frisk herself. "Professor Hagrid," the small man said in greeting. "Professor Flitwick," he returned in surprise. "Where's Minerva?"

"Seeing to some ill students, Rubius," the small man responded. "There's been an incident already. I'll be handling the sorting, they're waiting for us."

Flitwick pushed the large door open. The doors opened into a great hall, with four long tables that must have been filled with a few hundred students. On the far side, there was a dais where the professors sat. In front of it, a single stool with what appeared to be pointed cartoon witch's hat. There were even ghosts, far more humanlike ghosts than Blooky or Mettaton. Torches hung, untethered to anything Frisk could see. The ceiling mirrored the night sky outside.

The combination of strange sights and the cacophony of noise was overwhelming to Frisk. She wanted to back out of it. All of these people, and they were all staring toward her and the similarly scared students around her. It was the second scariest room Frisk had ever seen. The scariest had been a slightly shorter hall with exactly one skeleton in it.

She recovered her composure in time to hear the hat finishing a song about the four houses of Hogwarts. A song she didn't really hear, or really remember. "Now, when Professor Flitwick calls your name, please come up, and we'll sort you into your proper house," Professor Hagrid told them, as Flitwick took his place on top of a large stool. "Applegate, Kristina..."

One by one, the students were called. They walked slowly up to the front of the hall, had the hat placed on their head, which then proclaimed their fate. They went back to the end of the tables after that, joining their newly assigned housemates. All too soon, Flitwick called out "Dreemurr, Frisk".

It was the moment she had been dreading. She could hear people muttering about what kind of name 'Dreemurr' actually was, and thought she spotted one girl at the Ravenclaw table that recognized it. She walked slowly up to the area in front of the dais to the stool, looking up at the professor. Flitwick's expression was kind in the way that only teachers could be. He knew the arriving students were scared and nervous, exactly how Frisk was right now. It had been easier to confront her father the first time, than it was to face this public spectacle.

She looked up at the dais where the other professors were sitting. Most of them were talking with each other, only half concerned with the sorting of students, but the one in the center, The Headmaster, was staring at her with a decidedly interested expression. He noticed her gaze and smiled benignly, his eyes twinkling.

Flitwick cleared his throat, regaining Frisks attention. The professor indicated the stool with his free hand, and Frisk climbed onto it. Then he slowly lowered the Sorting Hat onto the student's head.

"Hmph," said a voice in her head. Frisk sat still, curious as to what the hat would say. "The first instinct would be to say Gryffindor, as you've certainly done brave things in your past. But you don't think of yourself as brave." Frisk's memory flickered to Mom and Dad... neither of whom knew about a certain golden flower.

"You're good at puzzles and riddles, you even enjoy them..." Papyrus's face flashed in her mind... "But you don't treasure knowledge for knowledge's sake. Ravenclaw would not suit you."

"There's some part of you that wants power. But why? Ah... to help others. A specific other, to be sure, but others." After the train ride, she'd been trying to forget that face, but it bubbled back at her. "But you don't really desire it. Slytherin? No."

"In fact, you mostly value compassion. You think that the worst person in the world... could change. That anyone has the capacity to be a good person, if they would just try. Admirable for any Hufflepuff, but you will find that thought tested here. I think Helga and Godric would both have found you to be a valuable addition to their houses. It requires such extraordinary bravery, and humility, to offer compassion to... more than an opponent... to an enemy. Would you fight, though, if you needed to?" There was silence for a moment. More memories climbed to the surface, the battle with Asgore and... that thing. Memories of events that technically never happened (though if the hat detected that thought, it didn't say anything). "You would, wouldn't you?"

The child had become aware that this was probably the longest sorting of any student so far... "I've decided," whispered the hat. "and I think you have too. The best choice for you is..."


	2. An Old Bank and a New Friend

_One week before term:_

"And that's the last of them," Jonas Bagnell said. He'd been their chaperone (guide might have been more polite) in London, on duty to make sure the monsters weren't recognized as non-humans. He had provided them with something he called disillusionment charms for traveling in London. They were supposed to hide the monsters from the non-wizards, but the three monsters that were traveling with Frisk still had to wear full body covering robes, and keep their hoods up, hiding themselves from view, so these enchantments were apparently not perfect. But since they were going into 'Diagon Alley' now, they didn't need them any more.

Having done that, Jonas pushed five bricks in sequence on the tavern wall. A moment later, the wall slid back and to the side, revealing a shopping area on the other side. Jonas sat down in a booth and pulled out a newspaper. He rifled through to the opinion section, and looked up again. "You can meet me here. If you don't see me, just ask Tom," he said, nodding to the bartender.

The bartender, Tom, looked up at the mention of his name, and stepped back in surprise at the goat looking woman, and two skeletons. "Good heavens!" he began. The few patrons already in the bar, including a young boy that looked only a little older than Frisk, looked up at Tom's exclamation.

"Everything's accounted for Tom," Jonas explained. "They're from the underground."

"Ah, alright then." Tom said, still not taking his eyes from Papyrus's excited grin. "Take care, then."

" **This is exciting, isn't it, Sans**?" Papyrus said, tearing off the cloak that covered his "civilian" body (it'd taken Frisk the better part of an hour to convince him his 'battle' body wasn't suitable for shopping). Frisk grabbed the cloak before it could escape, and handed it to Toriel for safe keeping in her shopping bag.

"heheheh. yeah, bro," said Sans, smiling his customary broad smile. "so, torii, where first?"

"Gringotts," Toriel told him, offering Frisk her hand. "Wizards pay for things in Galleons, so we'll need to exchange our own gold for it." The street behind the Leaky Cauldron was bustling with people. Witches and Wizards all doing their business on what just have might been the single busiest high street in England. Toriel walked into the throng purposefully, though never fast enough that Frisk had to jog to keep up.

"heh," Frisk heard behind him, "a wizard joke shop? i wonder what's in there."

" **School supplies, first, Sans!** " Papyrus admonished, causing a few onlookers to turn and stare. Frisk saw three common reactions to the skeletons. One was to vacate, either by turning up a street or disappearing in a store. Another was to stare, a few doing so by gawking with slack jawed open mouths. The third, and most nerve wracking, were the few that muttered angrily, staring through slitted eyes. Frisk pulled at her adopted mother's robe, whispering the need to hurry.

"It's okay, my child," Toriel said calmly. "We're not here to get in any fights." Frisk was sure about her mother's intention not to get into fights. She was also pretty confident that it didn't take two people to start fights, as Undyne had proven to her.

A small handful of people simply shrugged their shoulders and went about their business, and Toriel did her best to blend in with them, passing through the massive doors into Gringott's Wizarding Bank.

For the first time, Frisk joined Papyrus at staring at the huge, magnificent, architecture. Dad's castle underground had been immense and beautiful, with the cavern enlarged in specific ways to catch the little sunlight that had sneaked through the barrier. Gringott's was just as large, but far more ornate and opulent, like nothing Frisk had seen before, in the Underground or out of it. Still staring, Frisk felt herself pulled into a que of ropes. The other wizards in the line seemed more respectful of the matronly monster and her skeleton friends, or perhaps more aware of the goblin guards watching their movements. In any event, a few minutes later, Frisk was staring up at a goblin teller.

The Goblin might have been slightly taller than Sans, but it was hard to tell. He looked over the counter at Toriel, and while his voice was deep and scratchy, his tone was perfectly professional. "Welcome to Gringotts, madam, I am Nurkrus, how can I help you today?"

"I am here to open an account," Toriel explained. She reached into a purse, pulling out a handful of Underground gold coins, and placed them in front of the suddenly fascinated goblin.

"Ah, these aren't galleons," he said. He picked up one and bit it. "Slightly soft," he remarked. He reached under his counter for what appeared to be a jeweler's loupe, and strapped it on his head. He examined the coin for the counter for a moment, then held it up towards the light. "This is made of a purer gold then a galleon. We would be happy to trade one for another."

Frisk tugged at Toriel's robe, looking up with a plain look of confusion on her face. Toriel glanced down for a moment, and gave a soft smile. "My child would like to know what you mean by 'purer gold', Master Nurkrus."

The goblin beamed at her, and looked over the counter, down at Frisk. She would swear she saw a look of surprise and confusion cross his face, but it was gone within a heartbeat. "Goblin galleons introduces small impurities in the metal, in order to create a firmer coin, and to prevent counterfeiting."

Frisk whispered a quiet thank you, and gave a curtsy for the watching goblin. It was brief, but he smiled in acceptance.

Nurkrus stepped back back for a moment, engaging in whispered conversation with a passing goblin, possibly a superior. After a moment's wait, the other goblin returned, placing a large balance scale on the teller counter. He took a number of underworld coins, placing them in one basket, then placed a number of Galleons. For the next few minutes, as the monsters watched, fascinated, he added and subtracted coins from each side, until they eventually balanced. "Ah! There we are." He pushed the balance forward for Toriel's examination.

Frisk wasn't sure what Toriel was supposed to be looking for, and apparently, neither was Toriel. "I apologize, Master Nurkrus," she said. "I do not know much about Goblins, having only recently been freed from the Underground. But I am sure every goblin prides itself on Gringott's gold sterling reputation..." she paused.

Frisk didn't need to recognize Toriel's 'that was a pun' tone to get the joke. She, and Sans, snickered appreciably. Papyrus, on the other hand, let out a loud anguished groan. The goblin raised one skinfold that might have been an eyebrow, but didn't otherwise react.

Toriel shrugged, "That should be fine, Master Nurkrus. I have a much larger supply of coins that I would like to trade, but it would be hard to bring them to Gringott's directly."

"I understand. I would be happy to arrange for Gringott's employees to visit your home at a time that is convenient, to you,"

Toriel gave a swift nod. "Courteous and efficient, Master Nurkrus, thank you! How about..." they discussed times for a bit before agreeing to one. "May I offer you my Underground coins?" she asked.

Nurkrus smiled, for real this time, and turned the scale so that the Galleons were on Toriel's side of the table. She gave a nod of appreciation, and put them into her purse."Nurkrus, you have been such a help. Do you have a supervisor I can give a compliment to?"

Until that moment, Frisk hadn't known goblins could blush. This one did. "I assure you, Ms. Toriel, it is appreciated, but it is not necessary."

"I think it is. You went above and beyond what would be expected," Toriel said.

The goblin that had fetched the scales had returned, and was looking up toward Toriel with a wary expression, perhaps trying to decide if she was being patronizing. "On behalf of Gringotts, we thank you for the compliment," the second one said. "It is good to hear that common courtesy is not a lost art."

Toriel nodded at that and, still smiling, once again took Frisk's hand, and headed back for the main door. More then a few witches and wizards gave the group an odd look as they left.

"so," said Sans, "where next?"

"Well, Frisk needs to be fitted for her school uniform," Toriel said, consulting her list. "And she is supposed to be matched for a wand. Those sound like the could take a while. Perhaps you and Papyrus could find her school books at Flourish and Blot?"

" **That sounds like a noble goal for the Great Papyrus!"** Papyrus exclaimed. " **Fear not, we shall find the best possible books for learning!** "

"heheheheh. yeah, we'll get on that fast as possible," Sans said. His eyelights twinkled.

"Oh no, Sans," Toriel said in mock horror. "You're not going to..."

"book it there, yeah."

" **Arrrrrrrrrrgh!** "

* * *

 _Present day_

"Or should I..." the hat paused in this line of thinking. "You would do so well in either house."

This hemming and hawing of the hat continued on for several moments without actually discussing it with Frisk. She could hear someone's voice come down from the dais behind her. "Filius, when was the last time we had a hatstall?"

"The poor Petigrew boy, Albus, unless you count Ms. Granger."

"I heard that," muttered the hat. "Very well. A tiebreaker. What do you think of flowers and plants?"

Frisk thought of one flower immediately, and gave an involuntary shudder.

"Gryffindor!" the hat cried out.

To the sound of applause, not to mention a few sighs of relief, Professor Flitwick swept the hat from Frisk's head. "Go and join your house," he told the girl, smiling.

Frisk looked at the smiling faces in front of her, and she made her way back to the far end of the hall, at the end of the red themed table. She was only the second person to be sorted into Gryffindor, so ended up sitting next to the older second year students.

"Oh!" said the girl she sat down next to. To Frisk's surprise and delight, it was the redheaded girl that showed her how to get to platform Nine and Three Quarters. "You're in Gryffindor! Congratulations!"

Frisk wasn't completely sure how to respond to that. "Thanks?" she whispered.

"I'm Ginny Weasely..." she began.

"Ginny," a boy from the other side whispered in awe, "is it true that a dementor attacked Harry Potter?"

"Ask him when he gets down here, Colin!" Ginny snapped. This apparently startled Colin into submission, but there was a pause as "Formby, Kay" was sorted into Hufflepuff. "But I'm glad you made it here, and in Gryffindor!"

"Thanks. I'm Frisk... Frisk Dreemurr," she said, and they turned together to watch the sorting.

After the sorting, came the warning about the dementors. That was the creature that had... been present in the train car. Frisk shuddered. She would stay away from them, far away from them. She had no desire to live through that memory again.

Then there was the introduction of two new professors by the Headmaster (she'd met Hagrid already), and then the feast began. Frisk had to admit, she had never seen so much food in one place at one time. The smells of the suddenly appeared dishes mixed together into a cornucopia of fresh and inciting promise of taste. She took a small selection each of several different foods, liking some, not caring for others, but was pleasantly full... and then dessert arrived. Tables groaned again under fresh full plates of nearly every taste imaginable.

Once again, Frisk performed a full search for a butterscotch pie with a cinnamon crust, but once again, the search was in vain. "I've never had butterscotch," Ginny admitted, when Frisk explained what she was looking for. "Is that a muggle food?"

Frisk tensed up at the term. "Well, it is. But Mom makes the best pie in the world with it," she told her new friend.

"The best pie in the world is the one made by one's own mother," Ginny said sagely, and it was impossible to disagree with that.

Eventually, the food was done. In groups, they got up. Frisk was about was about to follow a boy wearing an important looking badge calling for first year Gryffindors when Ginny tapped her shoulder. "Nah, you don't need to follow Percy." She raised her voice, "Percy! What's the password?"

Percy glanced around, locked eyes with Ginny, "Fortuna Major!" he called back.

"Thanks!" Ginny replied. A blond girl in Ravenclaw colors had appeared next to them. She had blue, slightly unfocused eyes, an effect that Frisk wasn't used to. "Oh. Hello, Luna," Ginny said.

"Is this Frisk Dreemurr?" Luna asked.

Frisk felt her soul growing determined. This had been the girl that she though had recognized the name. There could only be one reason for that. "Yes, it is," Ginny said, somewhat in surprise.

"Is it a coincidence?" Luna asked curiously, "That the king and queen of monsters under Mt. Ebott also had that name?"

Frisk knew this moment would eventually arrive, and had been waiting for it. "No," she told them. "Toriel Dreemurr is my adopted mother. She was the first monster I met after I fell into the underground."

Ginny's mouth fell open.

"Do you think," Luna said, "that my Dad could get an interview with her?"

Of all the responses in the world Frisk could have gotten from that statement, she'd expected Ginny's. Luna's request threw her. "I think," she said after a moment's thought, "Mom would rather try to be quiet and not make waves... but I'd be happy to ask!" she added quickly, seeing Luna's crestfallen look. "Who does he work for?" she asked.

"He runs the Quibbler!"

"What's the Quibbler?" Frisk asked.

"It's tough to explain," Ginny said hurriedly, "I'll get her a copy,"

Luna's eyes suddenly dialed in on Ginny. The sharp change in focus was intimidating. "It's not all rumors and celebrity gossip," she snapped. "Daddy writes about things the Prophet would never print!"

"I know, Luna," Ginny said, "It's just that it is late, and we need to get to the common room before curfew."

"Oh, I suppose it is late," Luna said. "Alright, Ginny. See you in class?"

"I hope so!" Ginny told her, "I haven't seen the schedules yet," Ginny nodded to Luna, and took their separate ways, with Frisk trailing behind Ginny. "Luna's a bit... well, loony, but she's got a good heart, and she's extremely perceptive."

"I could see that," Frisk said in her quiet voice, and Ginny gave her a bright smile.

"We better get up to the tower, though. This way," and Ginny led Frisk up through a maze of stairwells, past talking portraits that welcomed the new and returning students to Hogwarts. Ginny only briefly acknowledged them. "When you get lost," Ginny told Frisk, "Feel free to ask a portrait. Most of them will make time to help a student. And speaking of portraits..." they had ended in front of a picture of a large woman in a pink dress. When prompted for a password, Ginny turned to Frisk, "Do you remember it?"

"Major Fortuna, wasn't it?" supplied Frisk. "Wait, no. Fortuna Major, right?"

"On the second try," Ginny said. "Remembering the password is probably the most important thing you need to do, even above homework. Just... don't let Hermione hear that," she said winking.

The portrait swung open, revealing yet another staircase. "Thank you," Frisk told the portrait.

"You're welcome," came the Fat Lady's voice from the other side, as she swung closed behind the two girls. They climbed up the stairs into a large sitting room. A warm fire was blazing in the hearth, several chairs, couches, and tables were scattered throughout. Two more staircases upward provided alternative exits to the common room. A small scattering of students occupied some of them, but it seemed capable of holding a lot more.

Ginny sat down on one of the comfortable looking chairs, focusing intently on Frisk. "Can you tell me about it?" she asked excitedly.

Frisk, as tired as she was, sat down near her. "Tell you about what?"

"Everything! What monsters are like, what happened in the Underground, everything!"

"I thought you said it was late," Frisk said.

"We're not allowed to be in the Castle halls after seven, but we can stay up as late as we want in the common room," Ginny explained. "Not that it's a good idea to stay up too late, we do have classes tomorrow, but, still!"

Frisk debated with herself. She had a feeling she'd be repeating her underground story often enough to be sick of it, But it seemed wrong not to give her new friend something, after the way she'd been helpful on both ends of the train ride.

"Toriel Dreemurr, my adopted mother, is the single nicest person I've ever met." Frisk reached into a robe pocket, pulling out a small leather photo-book. She passed it over to Ginny, who opened it eagerly. "She wants to be a teacher."

"These pictures aren't moving," Ginny said.

"We took them with cameras that fell down to the underground," Frisk explained.

"Ah, and the next picture must be her husband."

Frisk expression fell a little bit. "That's... that's a long story. I hope he will be again, they're starting to make up."

"Oh. And... are these _skeletons_?"

"Papyrus and his brother, Sans. They may look a little different, but Papyrus is such a gentle soul. Sans though, Sans is something else, a punster and practical joker. Papyrus pretends to hate it, but they love each other."

"We met!" said a pair of voices from the corner. Another pair of redheads (just how many of them were there in Gryffindor?) popped up from a corner table, coming to stand behind Ginny. With the three of them in close proximity, though, it was easy to tell they were related. "Sans is wicked cool. You should have seen what he pulled off on the manager of Flourish & Blotts!"

"What did he pull off?" asked Ginny suspiciously.

"Oh, he didn't hurt him, but it was hilarious," one twin said. "You should introduce us, Ginny!" added the other.

"These are my twin brothers, Fred and George. Did Ron already go to bed?"

"You know Ron," Fred... or was that one George... said.

"Ate too much and then fell asleep," the other finished.

Ginny giggled. "Fred, George, this is Frisk Dreemurr. She came up from under Mt. Ebott with the monsters."

Frisk gave a knowing nod of acknowledgement. She knew exactly how hard it was to keep a secret, but this was setting records even for her.

Ginny flipped the page in the photo-book. "A merperson? And a... lizard?"

"Undyne and Alphys. Undyne isn't quite a merperson, she's able to breath air easily enough. Alphys is... sorry, was, the Underground's chief scientist. Undyne's a bit hot blooded, but loves muggle anime and cartoons, so does Alphys, but she's much shyer."

"Tell us all about the underground!" Fred and George said together.

"Not tonight," Frisk said firmly. "I'm not going to try to keep a secret, but I can tell the whole house about it tomorrow."

"A treat after the first day of classes?" suggested George. "That sounds wicked," added Fred.

Ginny had finished flipping through the photo-book, and handed it back to Frisk, who looked at the picture of Toriel for several seconds before putting back in her pocket. "I think it's time for bed, Ginny said.

Frisk had wanted to begin writing a letter home, but as Ginny spoke she realized just how exhausted she was. "I think that's a good idea, Ginny," she told her. Saying good night to Fred and George, she followed her up to the girls dormitory, where a majority of the first years were already asleep.

She changed into her pajamas (purple with the delta rune), and crawled into bed. There was some snoring from the adjoining beds, but after what she'd endured with dad, it was nothing she couldn't handle. After several minutes staring up at the ceiling, thinking about her day, she rolled onto her side, and went to sleep.


	3. Sticks and Stories

_A/N: Explicit Undertale spoilers in this chapter. Be careful, OK?_

Some shops that Frisk glanced into as they searched for the recommended "Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions" looked nothing like anything she'd ever seen out in the non-magical world. Broomstix, which had an openly levitating broom in its window was a prime example. Amanuensis Quills, was almost as surprising. "I'm not sure why people don't just use normal pens," Toriel said. "They're a lot less messy."

On the other hand, Madam Malkin's almost looked like a non-magical (if high-end) clothing store. If it weren't for nearly the entire stock consisting of fancy robes and pointed hats, Frisk would not have known the difference.

Frisk entered the store first, with the proprietor giving her a friendly nod from where she was straightening a rack. The woman, presumably Ms. Malkin, had turned toward her when Toriel entered behind Frisk. Ms. Malkin froze momentarily, giving Toriel a look that Frisk recognized as fear. It was gone two heartbeats later, though, as she adopted a professional mask. "How can I help you two?" she asked.

"My child is attending Hogwarts this fall," Toriel said, smiling at the woman. "I understand you are the best place to be fitted for a school uniform."

"Thank you," Ms. Malkin said, turning to Frisk. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Frisk Dreemurr," Frisk told her. Behind her, Frisk could simply feel Mom beaming. It would be a long time before she got over hearing Frisk identify herself with her surname.

"Alright Frisk, let me fetch my measuring tape," If the truth were to be told, it didn't actually take long for Madam Malkin to fit Frisk for a robe. Frisk had been obedient when getting prodded in various places. Actually, the child had been too interested in watching Ms. Malkin's face, as she had been very carefully avoiding looking at Toriel.

"There you go," Ms. Malkin told Frisk. "Plenty of room for a growing witch."

"I suppose I'll have to get used to hearing that term," Toriel said, smiling. Ms. Malkin gave Toriel a quick, nervous look. Frisk noticed, even if Mom did not. A few minutes later, after Toriel had paid for the robe, the monster turned to leave the shop, then stopped, as Frisk hadn't joined her.

Frisk had gone to look up to the shopkeeper with her half-lidded eyes. "I know you're scared, Madam Malkin," Frisk said in her quiet voice, "but Mom couldn't have hurt anyone. I know the stories too."

Toriel looked horrified, and moved to grab her child, but Frisk stood her ground. "I know what it is liked to be scared; scared like that."

The tailor had flushed properly scarlet. "Frisk," Toriel began to say, but Ms. Malkin interrupted her. "No, your daughter is right." Ms. Malkin looked up, meeting Toriel's gaze for what the monster realized was the first time, "I want to apologize..." she flustered around the fact she'd never asked for a name.

"Toriel," Frisk supplied.

"Ms. Toriel," she stuttered, and caught herself, "Toriel," she continued finally, "We all got, well, reminders from certain parts of the wizarding community, parts I don't like to associate with," she gave a rueful smile, "After all, I've been called 'Mudblood'. A horrible term for a witch or wizard with two muggle parents. It was un..." she searched for the word, "It was unreasonable, and I apologize. You are clearly a mother who cares deeply for her daughter."

This caught Toriel completely off guard. "Thank you," she said after a moment of review. "I understand you are unused to seeing monsters, so it can be difficult to acclimate. Thank you for your honesty, and for your kind words," Toriel held out a furry paw, and Madam Malkin shook it. With their new robe carefully stored in Toriel's bag, the two left the store.

Frisk thought Toriel was going to admonish her about speaking up, but she didn't say anything about it. "Let's find Mr. Ollivander,"

Ollivanders (which Frisk was convinced was missing an apostrophe), was another store that could have, under cursory observation, been mistaken for a nonwizard shop. In this case, she thought it resembled a shoe shop, if the boxes were about half the size, both ways, of a shoe box.

"Come in, come in," said an elderly voice near the back, "Another new Hogwarts student?" asked the voice.

"She is," Toriel said, smiling again.

Mr. Ollivander turned around, walking toward them. "And a former prisoner, if you'll excuse the term, of the Mt. Ebott barrier. But that was a nasty business, and I hope you won't hold it against the wizarding world," Ollivander said, giving a bow to them both.

"Not if they're all as polite as you are, Mr. Ollivander," Toriel said, still smiling, and Frisk nodded in agreement. They introduced themselves.

"Please," he told Frisk, "Have a seat," and he pointed to the only chair in the shop, "and I promise to find you the wand that matches your personality. It is, after all, the wand that chooses a wizard! Now, you're the one who came out through the barrier with the monsters, right?" Ollivander asked.

Frisk nodded again.

"Such an act of justice. We should start with chestnut and... yes." He turned to a shelf on side of the shop, eyed it up and down for a moment, and deftly pulled a box from the stack without causing an avalanche. "Chestnut, with a core of unicorn hair," he told her, opening the box, and holding the wand it contained out.

Frisk hesitantly took the wand in her hand. It felt smooth and cool. But it didn't actually do anything.

Ollivander waited expectantly, "Give it a wave, please?" he asked politely. Frisk gave it a wave, grinning at the memory of Madjick. The tip of the wand glowed for a second, but then faded, and Ollivander looked disappointed. "Not Chestnut then, let's see. You emerged through a great trial. Maybe a Fir?"

He put the lid back on the chestnut wand, discarding it into a corner, and dashing to another stack. This pull was less deft, and the stacks of boxes on top of the one he selected wobbled dangerously before settling. He produced another wand for Frisk to pick up and try.

This one was much more dramatic, it grew hot in her hand before she'd even had the chance to handle it for a second, and with a cry, she dropped it back in the box.

"Are you all right, my child?" Toriel asked, alarmed.

"It... it didn't like me," Frisk said, waving her not quite burned hand.

"Fir and dragon heartstring..." Ollivander began.

"Does that hurt the dragon?" Frisk asked, anxiously. "Are they intelligent creatures?"

Ollivander shook his head, "They're not sentient, if that's what you're asking. They're giant lizards."

"Oh," Frisk said, slightly mollified, "but I don't know if I could bring myself to use one."

"Not Fir, and no dragon heartstring." He gave Frisk an appraising eye, apparently going over what she'd said, "Pine then. Do I have a Pine with a Phoenix feather?" He went to one shelf, then a second, then a third, before taking a box off the top of its particular shelf, pulling it down and rushing back to Frisk, enthralled with the challenge that had been presented to him. He presented the box to Frisk with a flourish.

This one didn't mind so much that it was being handled, but even when waved multiple times, it remained aloof, simply unresponsive.

"I, I was so sure," Ollivander said, fascinated. "Hm. Ms. Frisk, do you have an idea for what you want to do when you grow up?"

"I want to help people," Frisk said, unsure of what she was being asked.

"Ah, an auror? That is, a guard against Dark Magic," he explained, seeing Frisk's confused look, "Or maybe a healer?"

"A healer," Frisk said quickly.

Ollivander nodded. "I still think phoenix feather, but perhaps willow." This one led to Ollivander balancing precariously on a stepladder before pulling a box down and presenting the wand from within. Frisk tried it, and though it did respond, it still didn't feel right.

"We're on the right track at last," Ollivander said happily. "But, hm. It's odd. None of the wands are acting like they're the first wand you've picked up. Still, let me find a pear wand with..."

"I'm sorry," Toriel interrupted, "Did you say pear? Like the fruit tree?" Ollivander nodded to her. Toriel searched through her bag, pulling out a familiar stick. "This is the stick that my child carried with her throughout the entire underground. It is pear, is it not?"

Ollivander took the stick gently in his own wizened hands, turning it over several times. He then pulled a wand from the front pocket of his robe, tapping the stick with it. A shower of golden sparks came out from it.

"I'll be. This is magic grade wood, Ms. Toriel," he handed to Frisk. Frisk grasped it, and though it felt familiar, it was not any piece of magical equipment. But Ollivander's eyes were wide, and excited. "Yes, yes! It just needs a proper core, and some filing and polishing! Phoenix feather, do you think?"

Toriel's voice had grown thoughtful. "Can you use other magical creatures to be a core of a wizard's wand?"

"Other wand makers do. I know other wand makers use Veela Hair, Troll Whisker, Basilisk Horn. But I only use..." Ollivander cut himself off, and his eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting?" he asked.

Toriel nodded.

Ollivander positively raced to his back room. "A brush! Or a comb! Let me find a comb!"

They returned later that day to pick it up. By Frisk's request, it hadn't been polished. This had confused Ollivander. But the stick didn't really look that bad. It didn't have any side twigs or anything that'd have really made it a branch, it didn't have any leaves. And it had felt right just the way it was in Frisk's hand. She had, after all, carried that stick a long time, and it felt wrong to change it now.

When she first picked the wand the wand up, it gave off such a warm, inviting light when Frisk picked it up that everyone knew it was not just a right choice to have this wand made, but the perfect choice. Thus, Frisk had Ollivander's first wand made with monster fur, and Ollivander was in for several weeks of happy experimentation as payment.

* * *

Frisk woke up, and for the briefest second, wondered where she was. Realization came quickly though, and she changed into her robes, gathered her school things and headed down through the common room to breakfast. After the feast last night, breakfast was reasonably simple, and with much more familiar foods.

Ginny was there, and while Ginny gave her a friendly nod, she was busy, talking with friends in her own year. A prefect – Percy, if she remembered the name correctly - handed out the first year schedules. And after breakfast, it was time to locate her class.

Transfiguration was Frisk's second class of her Hogwarts career. So she was only somewhat startled at the lack of an obvious teacher. And it wasn't much more surprising that a cat that was apparently counting students and matching them to a list on the desk.

After all, if a ghost could teach history of magic, and if the Dog Patrol could guard the area outside of Snowdin, why couldn't a cat teach transfiguration? The cat suddenly changing into Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, that caught Frisk by surprise. She was... moderately successful in class, she did better than Laura Johnson, at least. She wryly admitted her older cousin, apparently a Ravenclaw, was going to be hard to live up to.

"McGonagall is our head of house, Laura," Kevin Duncan whispered, annoyed. "Like she is going to compare us like that." They ceased arguing when McGonagall's eyes focused on them, and they went back to practicing.

When the bell rang, and the first year Gryffindors prepared to file down for lunch, but Frisk was interrupted. "Ah, Ms. Dreemurr?" McGonagall said, "A word please." Frisk's mind raced of all the things she could have done, or possibly been accused of doing in her first day at Hogwarts, while the rest of the class filed out the door, murmuring to each other.

"Now, I had my fifth year Gryffindors in my first period, and I overheard an interesting rumor," McGonagall said. "That you were going to tell the story of how you fell into, and escaped, the underground this evening."

Frisk blinked at her. "It's going to hang over me anyway," Frisk said quietly. "I think I should just get it over with."

"I think that's actually a very good idea," McGonagall told her. "Would you mind if I sat in and listened as well?"

Frisk shook her head. "No, not at all, professor." Though she was bemused at the attention she was getting.

"Mr. Potter, I suspect, will be relieved that the attention will not be on him for a change," Frisk's expression was confused, even more so by the momentary grin McGonagall allowed herself. "Ah well, go down to lunch, Ms. Dreemurr. I shall see you this evening."

There was to be double potions that afternoon, with the Slytherins. She'd already heard the rumors, that Professor Snape, the potions master, was the hardest teacher of Hogwarts to please, and it went double for Gryffindors. So, she buried her nose in her potions book over lunch, determined to impress the unimpressible.

* * *

It hadn't worked. Snape had already been irritated by _something_ that afternoon, and he had found something to complain about with each and every Gryffindor's cauldron. The Slytherins, apparently, were either all better potion makers, or immune to his criticisms. It was almost with relief that Frisk headed back up to the great hall for dinner, though her stomach was already churning with the thought of what she had promised to do that evening.

But she was determined to see it through.

Thus, after dinner, she climbed back through the Fat Lady's portrait hole into Gryffindor tower, and wasn't completely surprised to find the common room already filling up with students of all years. It was Mettaton's TV show all over again. McGonagall sat, alone, in one corner of the room, the students all giving her a fairly wide berth. A high backed comfortable chair had been pulled near the fire, facing outward, to give her a place to sit.

She looked out to the group, swallowing down the butterflies. Some of the faces she recognized, like the four Weasleys... and that was probably a fifth, others were her year-mates, who she'd spent the day with. Others she didn't, including the dark-haired boy with the scar in the shape of the lightning bolt.

She took the seat, and a hush fell over the group. McGonagall had pulled out a quill, already making some series of notes on parchment.

"Hi," she said nervously, "I'm Frisk Dreemurr, and about seven weeks ago, I climbed Mt. Ebott. We've all heard the stories, right? The legends?"

A brown-haired girl, sitting next to the lightning scarred boy, put up her hand. Frisk blinked and paused. "It's said that people who climb Mt. Ebott do not return," the girl said.

"Let her speak, Hermione," the red-haired and probable fifth Weasley said, giving her a playful light shove.

"It's... it's okay," Frisk said, "She's right, after all. There's a reason for it. There's a hole, a hole to the underground." She stared down at the throw rug in front of her. "I didn't have a very happy childhood. I never met my parents, and I don't know what happened to them." There was a brief mutter through the common room, and multiple sets of eyes glanced toward the boy with the lightning scar.

"I had no relatives that I know of, and so I bounced between different orphanages and foster homes." The next words were difficult, but she had to say them. "When I climbed Mount Ebott, I hadn't wanted to return. What I found down there was a hole to the underground..." and she launched into her story. She told of her first encounter with Flowey, how she was saved by Toriel. There was laughter at Papyrus's and Sans's introductions, especially from the twins. She wasn't truly interrupted until she began to describe having to directly confront Undyne.

"How could you not fight back against her!" a large boy asked incredulously. "She was trying to kill you and start a war!"

"Stuff it, Cormac!" an older girl told him. "You're always trying to pick a fight."

"It's probably a good question," Frisk said, looking directly at him, and giving Cormac her most determined glare. "But I knew how much Papyrus looked up to her, how much he said she had taught him. All I could think was, 'How could I hurt Papyrus's best friend?'."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see McGonagall giving an approving smile.

"I couldn't." She continued, describing her encounters with Mettaton, and how the robot's goal contrasted with Undyne's, that it wanted to prevent a war, instead of start one. Then she got to the Undertale itself. Of how Asriel, the son of King Asgore, had taken the body of Chara, his human best friend, through the barrier to fulfill his final wish, to see the flowers of his home village, one last time.

More than a few eyes in the common room were damp when she told them that Asriel hadn't survived the night either. Frisk had to stop at that point, to dry her own eyes. A few minutes later, she continued with Sans's judgement of her actions. "But I couldn't continue on," Frisk said, and then told her first direct lie. "I knew, somehow, that if I confronted Asgore at that moment, one of us would die. And neither of us wanted to kill the other. In fact, I think both of us would have wanted to sacrifice themselves for the other. For the other to be free." There was a good reason she knew that. She'd lived through it. She'd seen Flowey... his own son... break the last hope keeping Asgore together, and then strike Dad's soul directly. Even if it, technically, never happened.

"But I got a reprieve," she said, back on honest ground. "Undyne wanted me to do her a favor," and gave the comical account of her... 'date' with the Head Scientist of the Underground. But then she skipped the laboratory itself, not talking about either the experiments with determination, or the amalgamations it created.

"When I confronted Asgore, finally," Frisk concluded, "Toriel arrived, all the way from the ruins, to break up the conflict," she explained how, in her moment of need, when Flowey attacked, **everyone came**. Then she told the last lie. "All I remember is blacking out. When I awoke, I was surrounded by the friends I made, and the barrier was broken. Something must have happened," she swallowed her guilt. "but I don't know what it was. We made our way out to a ridge on the side of Mt. Ebott, with the monsters enjoying a sunrise for the first time in their lives. Which is when the Ministry of Magic found us, and you probably can guess the rest. Monsters are finally free." Frisk said, finally allowing herself to smile. "I hope I'm still welcome at Hogwarts... in Gryffindor."

There was silence for a few moments, then applause. She wasn't sure where it started, but it echoed throughout the common room.


	4. Books befriended, and Classes Begin

Upon first glance, Flourish and Blots looked like any other monster, or mundane, bookstore. Pushing open the door, Papyrus brandished the book list Toriel had given him. **"Here we go, Sans! We should divide and conquer this worthy task we have been presented with!"**

"huh," Sans said, oblivious to his brother's declaration. "what's going over there?" And it was true, while the skeletons had garnered some stares and frightened looks on their trip from Gringott's to the bookstore, their actual entrance into the bookstore had gone unnoticed. Instead, there was a small group of people clustered around a cage filled with books... that were apparently snapping at people, and each other. "i'm going to go check it out," Sans said.

 **"Sans! You are so easily distractible."** Papyrus exclaimed.

Sans turned to look at his brother. "what do you think i am? a numbskull?"

 **"AAAACK!"** Papyrus exclaimed. " **Books, Sans! Not puns**!"

"okay, okay, okay," Sans said, his eye-lights glinting.

They began to move down the list, collecting the "Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)" and "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them". They had just located "The Essential Defense Against the Dark Arts" when a cry went up from the crowd around the cage. "It's loose! It's loose!"

"alright, now i have to see," Sans said, disappearing between shelves.

Papyrus shook his head, and pulled the defense book off the shelf, adding it to the small stack in his hand. " **One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi** ," Papyrus said, reading off the next one, when the shouts got louder and more excited. Unable to focus, Papyrus reluctantly followed the direction his brother had wandered off.

One of the books had gotten loose from its cage, and was busily trying to bite the hand of the distressed looking proprietor. "I swear it! I'm never stocking them again!" he said, trying desperately to recapture the piece of rogue reading material. The book bit at empty air again, and retreated under a shelf, snarling at everyone.

Papyrus carefully set down his accumulated stack of textbooks. " **Allow me, the Great Papyrus, help you with that book!"** he declared, folding his arms, as if expecting a dramatic wind to rustle the scarf he wasn't actually wearing.

There were some gasps and murmurs, and Papyrus strode past the stunned shopkeeper, and reached his hand into the gap between shelf and floor, aggressively going for the book. Papyrus was the only one surprised when his hand got bitten. " **OUCH!** " Papyrus withdrew his hand, shaking it out.

" **A small setback!** " he declared. The skeleton considered for a second, then he knelt down on the floor, putting his eye sockets level with the gap, getting a good look at the angry tome. The book's beady eyes stared back, getting a good look at Papyrus. Papyrus recognized something in those eyes. " **You're scared,"** Papyrus would have whispered, if he were capable of it.

Papyrus put his hand back underneath, but instead of reaching for the book again, he set his bony fingers in front of it, easily within bite range. The book didn't react at first, which was a good sign. A moment later, he heard sniffing sounds coming from under the bookshelf. " **That's right,"** Papyrus said. " **Will you allow to touch you?** "

The book didn't reply. But it also didn't growl again, so Papyrus had that going for him. Papyrus ran one bony finger over the very top of the book's cover. It didn't snap at him again, but it did maneuver itself a bit further away, turning its spine toward the opening.

 **"You put your back to me,"** Papyrus said, miffed. " **Your back?** " he repeated. " **Oh! Your back!** " He ran his fingers down the book's spine, and was rewarded with a soft cooing noise coming from the book. " **You want your back stroked,** " Papyrus said happily. He continued at this for a minute or two. " **It's dark down there, book,"** Papyrus said. **"Let me pick you up,"** and with his other hand. Papyrus gently scooped the book out from under the shelf, continuing to stroke the book's spine.

There was silence from most of the small group of onlookers when the skeleton revealed his prize, and a few of the customers hurried away at the sight of the skeleton. Two of them, teenagers with bright eyes and blazing red hair, on the other hand, openly applauded.

When Papyrus held the book out for the manager to take, the book woke from its reverie to growl warningly. He backed off, "Ah, maybe you should just keep that one... I'm not sure what kind of dark magic a skeleton..."

"Hey," Sans spoke up from behind him. His eye lights had dimmed so much as to be barely visible. "Papyrus wouldn't use any 'Dark Magic'. Just because me and my brother are from Mt. Ebott..." he said, his voice trailing off.

"I'm... I'm sorry," said the flustered worker. "These books have me around the bend. My apologies mister... ah, Papyrus, right?"

"yep, Papyrus, and i'm sans. sans the skeleton. no hard feelings?" Sans asked, holding his hand out.

"No, Mr. Sans," the shopkeeper said, taking Sans's hand to shake. As soon as he gripped it, there was the distinct, terrible, sound of someone passing gas. Loudly. There was a howl of laughter from the two watching teens. Sans glanced at them, winking. The shopkeeper stomped off to collect his dignity. "Monstrous books, practical joke playing skeletons, this isn't my day..."

"Set up and delivery, George," one of the teens said, bowing at the masterwork. "Flawless execution, Sans!"

"It was very impressive. We ought to study more of muggle practical jokes, if for inspiration if nothing else, Fred," said the other, joining his match in the bow.

"thank you, thank you," Sans said, stuffing the whoopee cushion back into his pocket.

" **Sans, could you pick up...** " Papyrus thought about what he was about to say, " **the books, and carry them to the counter for me, please? Toriel will be here shortly, and my hands are full at the moment."** He was still stroking the monster book of monsters.

"We'll get them!" the twins said together.

Sans, Fred, and George spent the next few minutes talking about different jokes, practical and otherwise, despite their offer to help. Papyrus, alone, fetched the last few books, one at a time, placing them on the growing stack on the counter. " **Lazybones** ," Papyrus admonished.

"just doing my part for human-monster relations," Sans said.

Fred and George were called away at that point, and a couple of minutes later, Toriel and Frisk walked in.

"Ah, I see you've gotten the list together, and what's that in your hands, Papyrus?" Toriel asked.

" **The monster book of monsters** ," Papyrus said happily. " **Would you like to see, Frisk?** " Papyrus held out the book, which growled again. " **Hey. None of that. Any friend of the Great Papyrus should also be a friend of Frisk. Hold out your hand and introduce yourself,"** Papyrus said in a stage whisper.

"It's alright," Frisk said softly, "And it's true, any friend of Papyrus is a friend of mine," she gently took the book in her own hands, and took over Papyrus's job of stroking the spine. The monster book cooed happily.

"Just keep it," the counter attendant said tiredly, as Toriel went to pay for the collection of school books. "I don't think we could put it back in the cage even if we wanted to."

" **Thank you, human!"** exclaimed Papyrus, " **I will enjoy perusing its text, and hope to find skeletons in it!** "

* * *

Frisk had planned to start practicing her transfiguration homework afterward, to give Professor McGonagall a good impression of her. But before Frisk could even pull her wand out, she had been approached by three fellow Gryffindors: A shorter boy with dark hair and pudgy face, the boy with the lightning scar, and what looked like a Weasley boy. "Hello," the first one mumbled. "I'm, uh, Neville. Neville Longbottom. That's Harry Potter, and that's Ron Weasely."

"Hi," said Frisk, smiling.

"I, well, I just wanted to let you know, there's a couple of us who, uhm, who had to grow up without parents. We, Harry and I, both I lost ours to... to you-know-who."

Frisk looked at Neville blankly. She had no idea who.

"Voldemort," Harry said darkly. Both Ron and Neville visibly flinched.

"Please," Ron said weakly, "Don't use that name."

"What Neville's trying to say," Harry said, "All of us know what it's like, if you need help, please ask. Gryffindors need to stick together, right?"

"Right," chorused Ron and Neville.

"Thanks," said Frisk, and she really meant it.

Over the next few days, Frisk was gradually introduced to all the first-year courses at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. The class she was best at was Charms. Professor Flitwick was a good teacher, and ready to both help a student out with wand positioning and a joke to calm the nerves of a student whose charm had backfired. Frisk liked him immediately.

On the other hand, she had the most nightmarish time with her flying lessons. It wasn't that she disliked Madam Hooch, far from it, but she'd become convinced she was meant to keep two feet on the ground. And her broom (a school supplied one, as she wasn't allowed to bring her own) apparently agreed. She had spent a good fifteen minutes demanding her broom 'Up' at all before it decided to acquiesce, at which point most of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had taken to the sky. "Don't worry about it overmuch, Ms. Dreemurr," Madam Hooch had told her. "Not everyone can be a natural flier. We'll pick it up there next week."

Astronomy was Wednesday night, the only time they were allowed out of the common room after curfew. While Frisk enjoyed looking up at the stars, and the cool dark, especially as she had to spend most nights indoors; the coursework itself was rote memorization. Frisk detested it on general principle. Professor Sinistra tried to make it interesting, but it was History of Magic all over again, as far as she was concerned.

In Herbology, though it was nerve wracking at first when Professor Sprout announced they'd be studying a talking plant from the underground, Frisk was very relieved to find they were going to be spending the first few weeks studying the echo flower instead. Although she was irritated to realize she had fallen for the same bait and switch that Sans had pulled on her at Grillby's, even if it was unintentional this time.

Frisk was going up from Herbology to her next class, Defense Against the Dark Arts, when she had to stop suddenly. A Gryffindor student, carrying an armful of books, positively raced past her going to the left. She wasn't the only student Frisk had seen late for class, so she didn't pay a lot of attention to it at first. But, not fifteen seconds later, the same student passed her in the next intersection, going the opposite direction. After staring for a couple seconds, she realized she even recognized her. It was Hermione, the girl who'd put up the hand in the common room the other night.

Frisk was curious, but not curious enough to want to be late to her first class with a teacher she'd not met yet. If Charms was the class she was best at, Defense Against the Dark Arts might have just been her favorite. Frisk had heard the rumors of some of Professor Lupin's other classes, and she didn't want to be late.

"Are we going to see a Boggart?" Violet Mills asked excitedly, once Lupin had taken attendance and introduced himself.

"I'm afraid not," Lupin said, and acknowledged the class's sigh of disappointment. "Not in the first week. I think we shall save that for a special occasion. Instead, let's talk about something simpler, the Will-o'-the-Wisp," Lupin began, and led them on a spirited, enjoyable discussion in which all of the class was dragged into talking, even Frisk.

On Saturday, even before she started her homework, she absolutely had to write a letter home. She described the castle, her classes, even the food. She included Luna's request for an interview with the Quibbler. But most of all, she mentioned how home sick she was. "I had just gained a family," she wrote. "And I've been forced to leave them behind. I hope you, Dad and the others are all doing well. Love, Frisk." She put it in an envelope, and departed for the Owlery to have it sent.

Along the way, she was intercepted by a very nearly skeletal looking cat with large yellow, lamp like eyes that simply stared at her. Frisk was used to cats wandering the halls of the castle. The resident cat of Gryffindor tower, a large orange cat (possibly a maine coon, or very small tiger) called Crookshanks had come to investigate her lap a few times over the course of the week. Frisk detoured out of her way to introduce herself to this one.

The hissing the cat gave in response, however, surprised her. "It's alright, cat," she said, kneeling down, holding out a hand. The cat hissed again, looking at Frisk's hand warily.

"Hey! What are you doing with my cat?!" came a raspy shout from behind her.

"I... I was just trying to say hello," Frisk said, turning around awkwardly on the floor and blinking up at the angry looking gaunt man with long muddy blond hair.

"Likely story! I know how you students are. Your fondest wish is to give poor Mrs. Norris a good swift kick, isn't it!"

"But I'm on the ground..." Frisk protested. "How could I kick... I, I like cats."

"Go on, get wherever you're headed! C'mon Mrs. Norris," the man said, and he and Mrs. Norris stalked off. Frisk stared after them, utterly bewildered. It took her a few seconds to stand, and remembered that she was heading up to send her letter.

The owlery was a massive room with owls of every type that Frisk had heard of, and many she hadn't. She managed to get the attention of one of the school's barn owls, and with the promise that Toriel would give him a snail treat (that barn owls eat snails was one of Toriel's 'Snail Facts'), she tied the letter to its leg, and let him go on his way. Afterward, Frisk headed back to the common room.

The rest of the weekend was spent with homework. Was it really homework, Frisk wondered, if she did it in the same building it was assigned? These were the kind of thoughts Sans had put in her head. She also spent a few hours out of doors near the lake. That there was a second tentacled monster other than onion-san had intrigued her. It was even, reportedly, friendly, and she felt she had to check it out.

She got a reply back during Monday's breakfast, a medium package with a very long letter, with additions from all of her friends from the underground. Mom included her contact information, saying she'd be happy to do a Quibbler interview. The package contained, wrapped in large amounts of plastic wrap, not pie; but cinnamon cookies with butterscotch chips. While she would share some with Luna and Ginny later, she couldn't resist having one right then and there.

It tasted like home.

* * *

The second week went much like the first. Astronomy and History of Magic were still boring, Transfiguration was still hard, and Professor Snape still appeared to hate everything to do with Gryffindor.

But it was flying that was still Frisk's hardest course. After, for what was probably the hundredth time, asking for the broom to come 'Up', Frisk took a second to clear her thoughts. In that time, one of the members of Hufflepuff landed her broom behind her, and broke into Frisk's thoughts.

"It's your voice," she said.

Frisk looked around. It was a taller girl with short brown hair and hazel eyes. "It's your voice," she repeated.

"What do you mean?" Frisk asked.

"It sounds like you don't actually want it to come up, and your broom is picking up on that," the girl explained. It had a lot of truth to it. "Take a second, and say it with confidence."

Frisk took a deep breath, focusing on the broom with her eyes. "Up!" she told it. And finally, the broom acknowledged her. She boarded it cautiously, trying to get a feel for it.

"Here," the Hufflepuff said patiently, "I'll stay with you. Don't worry about falling. That's what Madam Hooch is here to help with, right?"

"Right," said Frisk dubiously. And over the rest of the lesson, Frisk did fall, twice. But never far, and more discomforted by the embarrassment than the pain. The Hufflepuff stayed with her the whole time, encouraging her.

When Hooch called for the brooms to be put away, Frisk stood with her benefactor. "Thanks, what's your name?"

"Opal," the Hufflepuff said, "Opal Oxtoby. I hope to be on the Hufflepuff quidditch team next year. Probably as a chaser."

"I'm Frisk Dreemurr," Frisk said, smiling, "and I have no idea what you just said."

As the bell rung, and they headed up to the castle. "Oh, Quidditch?" Opal said, her eyes sparkling. "Best game in the world. If you have time on Saturday, come down to the pitch, and we'll be able to watch one of the teams practice. And, if Madam Hooch lets us, we can have some extra flying practice,"

"I'd like that, Opal. Thank you," Frisk said.

They went their separate ways. For the second time, Frisk was interrupted by Hermione charging down two different halls, in two different directions, no more than thirty seconds apart. She stared after the older Gryffindor, the confusion evident on her face.


	5. Dementors Detailed

Setting the mystery of the apparently randomly rushing third year aside, Frisk finished her trek to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and took her seat among the otherwise fully assembled class. Lupin stood at his desk, apparently counting noses until he was satisfied that everyone was present. "Today, class, we're..."

To Frisk's right, one of her classmates put up his hand. "Excuse me, sir? Professor Lupin?" Lupin looked away from the book he was about to pick up, and turned to look at the students. "Yes, Walter?"

"At the opening speech, Headmaster Dumbledore said that Dementors were patrolling the outside of the castle grounds, and I'm sure I saw one on the train here, but what is a Dementor?"

Professor Lupin's face sprouted a wry grin for a moment before turning serious. "I expected to have this discussion last week, actually. But they're still here, so it's still important. So let's see who knows what about Dementors. First of all, where were they first discovered? Anyone?"

A few students put up their hands. Lupin cast his gaze across the classroom, and nodded at one student. "Go ahead, Keith."

"Azkaban island," Keith said. "Where the prison is."

"Correct, take five points," the Professor said. "The prison itself was constructed because of the Dementors..." he went on to give a brief history of Azkaban prison, about how it was built in the early 18th century by a forgotten wizard, and how it was now used to house the worst of magic's criminals. "But that provides the question," he continued, "Why are Dementors such potent guards?"

Nobody had an answer to this. They'd all encountered Dementors on the train, but none of them wanted to think about what had happened after that. Not one hand went in the air. "No one wants to even hazard a guess?" said Lupin, surprised. "I don't blame you. Dementors attack by sucking all happy thoughts out of a person, leaving you with only your most miserable of memories. Even the air around them simply goes cold."

Frisk felt her blood run cold, as well. How was that safe? Clearly some of her classmates were having similar thoughts, as she could see anxious faces on many of them. Walter put up his hand again, "But.. if you're around them for any length of time, sir, wouldn't that..." his voice faltered. Frisk felt as horrified as he looked.

"Drive people insane," Lupin confirmed. "Yes."

"That's horrible," Frisk said aloud. "How can people possibly think..."

Lupin gave the class a very tight smile. "There are some people, certain aurors, that think dark wizards deserve such treatment. To make sure they never hurt others again."

"Everyone deserves a second chance," Frisk whispered.

The class as a whole was silent for a minute or two, all lost in the idea of what it would be like, surrounded by Dementors, unable to have a single happy thought. Finally, Walter put up his hand a third time. "What's under a Dementor's hood?" he asked.

"Nobody really knows," Lupin said. "They only lower the hood for one reason, to perform what's called 'The Dementor's Kiss'.". The class stared up at him, wondering what fresh nightmare he was about to impart. "They take the soul of their victim, drawing it out by their mouth."

"What happens," asked Walter, and his voiced trembled, "To someone without a soul?"

Frisk clamped her eyes shut. "They continue on," she said. Her voice seemed to echo through the classroom. She wasn't sure why she was answering the question, but she knew the answer. "It's... still them, kind of. They keep their memories, some semblance of their personality. But... but... but..." Frisk swallowed. She wanted to stop, but the words fell out anyway. "They lose everything that connects them to other people. They can't feel hope, they can't feel compassion... they lose the ability to love others, to feel love from others. They're... they're just a shell..." Frisk opened her eyes again to see the class staring at her.

"That's if they have the will to keep living," Lupin added. "Most don't. Dementors take that from you, too." He looked at Frisk, and she could see worry lines around his eyes. But he didn't say anything to her, instead he addressed the class, "Does anyone have any other questions about Dementors?"

Silence.

"I was expecting one more question," Lupin admitted. "I'm kind of disappointed nobody asked about a defense against them. There is one, the patronous charm. It designed to focus a happy memory outside the body, so it will defend the casting wizard and repel Dementors, attacking them directly."

Professor Lupin glanced up at a clock on the wall. "Alright, so what I'd intended to cover today, Ghosts, seems like it would continue darkening our class, and it's still too early in the fall for that. So, instead, we will instead up light up the class with one of the most practical spells, the wand lighting charm... please pull out your wands." The class did so. "Consider this your first battle in the war against darkness."

It took about a moment for that thought to percolate through the class. While a few people, including Frisk, applauded the pun, most of the class emitted a collective groan. They spent the rest of the period practicing the charm. It wasn't a difficult one, and Frisk got her wand tip to glow with a pleasant yellow light within three tries.

"My pardon, Frisk," the Professor said as the bell rang and the class headed down towards dinner. "I was just curious; do you know someone who's been kissed by a Dementor?" he asked softly.

Frisk shook her head violently.

"Maybe you've been spending time around Hermione then," Lupin said, passing it off with a smile. "Have a good afternoon." Frisk hurried away, with the professor watching her leave with an odd expression on his face.

* * *

That weekend, the cool breeze that passed over the lake reminded Hogwarts firmly that any last gasp of summer had given way to fall. Luna, Ginny, Opal, and Frisk had assembled near the school's broom closet to meet up with Madam Hooch. Luna and Ginny had accepted Frisk's bribe of cookies in order to join in the broom tutoring.

"It's good of you to recognize that you're falling behind the rest of your classmates," Madam Hooch said. "Usually I have to encourage such people to take extra practice, but here you are. Remember, no more than one or two feet off the ground. I'll be watching. And... Luna?" she asked with a tone of resignation.

"Yes?" Luna asked, her unfocused gaze turning towards the flying instructor.

"Please don't tell her to ride like you do. I don't care how ladylike you think it is, people need to master a normal grip first."

Frisk was improving, slowly. This time her broom came up on the third demand. She promptly adopted a vice like grip on the handle, and turned to look at the others. To her absolute astonishment, Luna didn't have the broom between her legs, but had sat on her broom as if it was a chair.

Madam Hooch had nothing to worry about.

"Alright, Frisk," Opal said. "Why don't we do some laps around the edge of the quidditch pitch, before practice starts?"

Frisk was glad they kept it low, because she continued the trend from this week's flying lesson, and fell, twice. Once again, the most damaged thing was her ego. The ego, on the other hand was severely damaged by the sound of mocking laughter coming from the other side of the pitch. A number of students clad in green Slytherin robes had come to practice. The one in the lead, a blond-haired boy with his arm in a sling, was laughing the loudest.

"What's the matter?" he shouted. "The little monster friend doesn't seem to belong in the air, does she? She should go back in the earth with the rest of them!"

That hurt. Frisk could take people insulting her, but suggesting her friends should be trapped again? How could anyone say something like that? Frisk stood up, symbolically dusting off her clothes. She was about to respond when Ginny swooped down next to her, and beat her to it. "The only monsters I see, Draco, are the ones you had to buy yourself to be a part of," Ginny told him.

Frisk reached up, pulling on Ginny's robe, shaking her head. She met Draco's eyes, and spoke softly. "You've not even met them, any of them, have you?" she asked. "You don't know what it's like to be lost, cold, alone, and have someone who isn't even the same race come and look after you. To give you help, because you asked for it?"

"I don't need help," Draco sneered.

Luna looked over to him with an interested expression. "So you'll be able to play Gryffindor's team by yourself? Can I watch that?"

Opal and Ginny laughed, and Frisk felt her mouth twitch. Luna's seriousness is what sold it. She had taken Draco perfectly at face value, and turned it right back at him.

Draco's sneer turned to a look of anger, and Frisk didn't think he'd heard her own question. He seemed ready to come after Luna, but he could see Madam Hooch not far away, or maybe he remembered he was wearing a cast. "We'll see who's laughing after the cup's awarded," he growled, turning back to his teammates. Frisk watched him leave, feeling distinctly unhappy. He seemed so intent on remaining apart from people.

"We better go, I'm sure they've scheduled the pitch, and they won't take watchers very kindly," Opal said. "It's too bad. I'll bet any other team would have been happy to give us a brief primer." Frisk remounted her broom, as she was determined to get up more than she fell off, and they flew back in the direction of the cupboard.

Madam Hooch was observing Frisk's form. She nodded. "Better, though you need to learn to hang on more with your knees, and use a lighter touch on the neck. That will give you better control on your ascents and your turns. And that will come with more practice."

"Would you mind if we do this again next week?" Frisk asked.

"That might cost you another cookie," Ginny told her. "I'm kidding, sure. It was fun."

Opal nodded her agreement. "I love flying. I'd do it all day if I could." They finished putting the brooms away, and began to trek back toward the castle, the wind directing a few fallen brown leaves in their general direction. A couple of owls coasted on the air, probably with mail to deliver.

"By the way, are they all like that?" Opal asked the two older girls.

"The Slytherins?" replied Ginny. "Seems that way most days. Malfoy's the worst of a bad lot, and Flint's more of a brute than a skilled player," she said dismissively.

"So, what is Quidditch?" Frisk asked, intent on changing the subject. This was apparently the wrong question to ask, as both Opal and Ginny launched into excited details all about the sport itself, the positions, the balls, and its most common strategies.

Frisk felt overwhelmed. Maybe the game would make more sense when Slytherin played Gryffindor in a couple weeks. But, for the moment, it was all going over her head. They were just heading through the main doors to the great hall when Luna suddenly looked crestfallen. "You mean I won't get to see Draco trying to play the game by himself?"

* * *

September gave way to October, and the patterns of class life had really fallen into place for Frisk. She spent many of her evenings either working on homework, spending time with Opal, Ginny, and/or Luna, or writing another letter back home. They went outside as often as possible, but the Scottish weather was making it difficult. It was frequently cold, and it seemed to have conspired to rain each and every weekend.

The letters that came back were the best part. While most monsters had gold from the underground, many of them were trying to integrate, if not into the human world, at least the wizarding world. Asgore and Toriel were keeping busy smoothing ruffled fur.

Mettaton was having the worst of it. He wanted to be a star, and the confinement away from greater human society was hitting him really hard. Alphys was trying to set him up with a wizardly radio show, but it was a far cry from the TV show he'd had in the underground. Frisk wasn't without doubts on how good "Cooking with a Killer Robot" would play above ground, but she wished the ghost in the robot shell the best.

The letter that came about midway through October had a curious post script. "Hopefully, we'll see you sooner than either of us thought." Frisk looked at the vague note a second time, having no idea what it meant.

The first clue came the next night, as she was practicing the levitation charm, a large crowd gathered along the battered notice board that stood next to the portrait hole. She turned away from the feather that she was trying to make stay still in the air, "What's going on?" she asked nobody in particular.

"First Hogsmeade visit," Ginny told her, sliding into the seat next to her, watching the floating feather with a knowing expression. "Third years and above are allowed to leave the Castle on certain Saturdays and go visit Hogsmaede."

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Frisk declared, flourishing her wand, forcing the feather up once more. "What's Hogsmeade?" she asked.

"It's the only wizarding-only village in Britain," Ginny explained. "So people go in and visit the sweet shop, among other places, and spend pocket money.

"Third year and up?" Frisk asked, "Too bad. It would have been nice to leave the castle for a while."

"I suppose..." Ginny began with a shrug, but they were interrupted by a shout from a nearby table.

"OY! GET OFF YOU STUPID ANIMAL!" Frisk's feather forgotten, she looked around. Crookshanks was aggressively attacking the bag that belonged to Ginny's brother. After a moment, an absolutely terrified looking rat popped out of and made a beeline for a piece of furniture right next to them. The cat followed suit, dodging Frisk's attempt to intercept it.

Hermione looked almost white as she pulled the orange cat from where it was still trying to reach under the bookcase to catch the rodent. Ron, on the other hand, was a near a boiling red rage as he coaxed his rat back into his possession, and ran up the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

"He must feel terrible," Frisk said to Ginny, quietly.

"Him? Ron? Why?" Ginny asked.

"He's scared for his pet," Frisk said, still in a quiet voice, aware there was muttered conversation around the common room. "He just wants protect his friend, and there was a moment he thought he was going to lose him. How long has Ron had... what was his name? Scabbers?"

Ginny thought for a bit, "A few years. I think he was Percy's pet before Ron's."

"Were rats on the recommended pet list? I only remember toads, owls, and cats," Frisk said.

Ginny shook her head. "No. Partially for the whole cat and mouse thing, but rats don't really live that long."

"Wait," Frisk said frowning. "Didn't you say Percy had him first? That's got to be pretty old for a rat, then."

"We figure Scabbers has a bit of magic in his bloodline somewhere," Ginny said, though she sounded less than sure of herself. "By the way. Your feather's landed."

Frisk turned back to her feather, casting the levitation charm again, then looked around the common room. "Look at Hermione," Frisk whispered. "She looks terrible. Be right back," and so saying, Frisk stood, walking across the common room to talk to the pale faced girl sitting next to her fort of textbooks. She pulled up a recliner and sat down. Frisk wasn't sure she'd been noticed. "May I hold him?" Frisk asked.

Hermione looked at Frisk as if she was an alien invader from Mars.

"May I hold him? Crookshanks?" Frisk asked again.

Hermione silently held out her large cat, who had ceased struggling.

Frisk took the cat, placing it in her lap, she held one arm over the top of it with one hand, so he couldn't escape. With her other hand, she began to scratch the cat's head. "Are you doing okay?" Frisk asked, after Hermione had time to cool down a bit more.

For a second, Frisk thought Hermione was going to explode in a burst of anger. But she instead looked at Frisk directly in the eyes, as if seeing her for the first time, "He's just being a cat, right? All cats chase rats, right?"

"Maybe, but I'm not worried about Crookshanks. I'm worried about you. How are you doing?"

Hermione looked down at her table full of open books. "I'm alright."

"I'm familiar with that lie," Frisk told her, "I used it so often myself, before I went underground. You were scared, weren't you? Scared that he might actually catch your friend's rat?"

Hermione stared at Frisk. "Yes," she said simply. And Frisk didn't think it was her imagination that she saw a glistening tear in one of Hermione's eyes. "I've never had a pet before... and Crookshanks was all alone before I got him. I don't want to abandon him. But I don't want to hurt Ron, he's my friend too."

Frisk had a memory of a phone call from Papyrus in Waterfall, about trying to keep both friends safe and happy. "Do you hear that, Crookshanks?" she asked the cat. The cat looked up at the mention of its name. "Hermione wants to be friends with both you and Ron. Maybe you could consider not chasing his rat?" Crookshanks stared at her, defiance evident in his yellow eyes.

"Frisk," Hermione said tiredly. "He's just a cat, right?"

Frisk wasn't sure. The cat certainly acted like it understood her. She picked it up, stood up, and put it in the warm spot she had been sitting in, ready to go back to practicing her charm. "I guess," she said. "But I like being polite."

"Frisk?" Hermione said. Frisk looked back at her, and the older girl gave a weary, but grateful smile. "Thanks for knowing I needed someone to talk to."

Frisk held out both her arms. Hermione looked perplexed at the offer for a few moments, and instead reached out to shake Frisk's hand.

* * *

About a week later, after Monday's transfiguration lesson, McGonagall again summoned Frisk after class. Frisk twitched in nervous apprehension, wondering what possibly she could have done this time.

"Do you know about Hogsmeade visits, Ms. Dreemurr?" the professor asked her.

Frisk nodded, though she wasn't sure why she was being asked. That was for third years and up, right?

"It's kind of irregular, but Dumbledore is making an exception, due to your unique status." Frisk waited for her to explain herself. "Your adopted mother..." Frisk felt her breath catch, "will be allowed to take you out of the castle that day, and you can spend the day with her in the village."

"You mean it?" Frisk asked, hardly believing her ears.

"I do. It had been, what, two months after you came out of the underground, before school started?"

"Six weeks," Frisk said. "Thank you, thank you! And... thank the Headmaster for me?" she asked.

McGonagall smiled. "I will. Please do not tell other students of this, though. The cry would probably be heard around the school. With that in mind, you can go, Ms. Dreemurr."

This would be the longest week of Frisk's short school career.


	6. The One She Couldn't Save

_A/N: Undertale spoilers through the final ending in this chapter. Be careful, won't you?_

"It's almost Halloween," Lupin said, his gentle smile acknowledging the first year Gryffindors, as they sat down in class that Thursday. "And I think as a good a reason as any for a special lesson," He continued. "After all, it's the time of year that people look forward to being scared. What do you think, class?"

There was some nervous tittering and a few wide eyes from some parts of the classroom, but there were also some excited whispers as well. "Ah, I can already hear the word 'Boggart', and that's absolutely right. Mr. Filch has a boggart trapped in a classroom a floor below us. So I think we should go take it on." He adopted a voice that was supposed to be ghostly and spooky, "So bring your bags with you, we may not be coming back."

So saying, he let the class collect their belongings, then led them across the hall and down the stairs, into an unused classroom. Frisk's nose twitched from the musty scent of abandonment. The desks around the room were covered in a thin layer of dust. As Frisk was looking around, the sudden **bang** of one of the larger drawers at the teacher's desk caused Frisk, and several other students, to jump.

"Remember," Lupin said. "A boggart is a kind of shape shifter that exists to draw out, then feed on, fear that people feel. A boggart can, if it takes the form of a magical creature, 'echo' that creature's magic. But it's drawing on what you think should happen, so the effect was nowhere near as strong as the real thing. For example, a boggart that takes the form of a banshee would not gain a fatal scream." He paused, looking over the class to make sure they understood. "Now, we're all scared of different things," Lupin admonished. "And I know rumors flow like water among you. But please respect your classmates, and nothing you see here goes outside my classroom. Are we in agreement?"

"Yes, professor," the class said in chorus.

"Very good. Now, on three..."

Kevin Duncan stepped up to the line first. Frisk thought she caught a wisp of inky black smoke, but it quickly coalesced into a giant demonic looking black mastiff. When Kevin recited the charm, the dog changed into a poodle, which yapped up at the class.

A roar of laughter went up around the classroom. At Lupin's command, Kevin quickly stepped backward, and the professor called up Wendy Grant. For her, the boggart changed into a pool of red, congealing, expanding, blood on the floor. She took a step backward, and responded with the charm. Instantly, it became a pool of clear reflective water, complete with a tiny sailboat and squeaking rubber ducks.

Adam's boggart was a giant, monstrous looking anthropomorphic blue rabbit that emerged from hiding with a loud roar. With a cool stare and a stable wand, he changed it into a small, blue, plush toy bunny, that looked up at the class with wide eyes.

Caroline faced, of all things, Professor Flitwick. The professor gave her a tutting noise and said that she'd failed to turn in any homework that year, and would be forced to repeat Charms. The charm didn't change Flitwick at all, but the boggart was forced to report that she'd gotten the highest score in the final exam. "Not particularly funny," Lupin commented, "But it's not feeding on any fear from you, and that's certainly good enough."

Frisk was last to face the boggart. She stood, wand in hand, facing the desk. She had racked her for any way to make what she was about to see seem funny, but that had only paralyzed her thoughts more. Every other student had faced some type of creature that had moved to sicken, to attack, to threaten.

The creature that had emerged from the desk did none of those things. He somewhat resembled a human boy. Instead of skin, he had a layer of white fur. His human-like bright green eyes stared directly, desperately, straight at the suddenly paralyzed Frisk. His hands were open, outstretched, and begging. His muzzle was wet with tears.

As the class watched, his head began to shrink, slowly, and large golden petals sprouted around his head. His legs fused together, looking more and more like a plant's stem. And he was shrinking, visibly shrinking.

Frisk was dimly aware that other students were muttering at each other in confusion, and some were giggling. None of them knew what this was, or saw anything remotely scary. They were wondering if someone else been close enough to confuse the boggart. "Help me," the creature called out from behind the desk. "Help me, please!" The voice grew shrill and desperate as the transformation continued. "I... I don't want to go back! **Somebody! HELP!** "

Frisk's hand went slack and her wand clattered to the floor. She fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably, unaware of anything around her. Her heart breaking again, for the one she couldn't save. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. Over and over. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Because nobody came.

* * *

When Frisk finally regained consciousness of her surroundings, she was still slumped on her knees on the classroom floor. The class had left. The only person in the room other than her was Professor Lupin, who was sitting on the floor next to her. The boggart must have still been there too, she could hear the desk rattling.

"Here, you should have some," Lupin said. Frisk wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe, and looked up to see him offering her a Cadbury dairy milk chocolate bar. "I've been keeping them on hand with the dementors here. Having chocolate has been useful more than once."

For a second, Frisk thought the sorrow was going to make her lose control again. The last time she'd seen one of these was in Mom's fridge, awaiting another lost soul. She hung onto her composure, barely, emitting something that was an unhappy cross between a laugh and another sob. "Thank you," she whispered. She managed to sit up. She took the candy, unwrapping it hesitantly, and bit off a single square of chocolate.

"Have it all," Lupin said. He watched her eat for a minute or two. "That hit you pretty hard. Would you like to talk about it?"

Frisk stared up at the professor. His face was concerned, and kind, and Frisk badly wanted to talk about it. But she didn't know if she dared. If Mom... or Dad... if they found out she had... she had. She shut her eyes tight, afraid the boggart was going to come at her with a fresh nightmare. "Do you promise," she said finally, "Not to tell anyone?"

"As long as it does not threaten your safety, or the safety of others, I promise not to tell anyone," Lupin said firmly. Was it her imagination, or did she see a sad look in his eyes? "I know what it's like to keep secrets." But she could understand wanting to make sure other people were safe. So she decided to tell him everything. Nearly everything. There was still one part she'd keep to herself.

"Did Ms... Professor McGonagall told you what happened underground?" Frisk asked. Lupin nodded. "She didn't hear the whole story." Frisk took a deep breath, "Have you ever made a mistake so bad, so horrible, that you wanted to go back? To fix it? I have. It was in Waterfall, on a bridge." Frisk could still see it. "The monster child had told me that, 'Undyne told me to stay away from that human. That makes us enemies, or something, right?' I tried to say it didn't... but I don't think he heard me. But he turned, he ran... and he fell, clinging to the bridge. I wanted to go to him, to help him, but Undyne was right there, and I thought she'd attack me when my back was turned. I was so scared."

Lupin's eyes widened slightly, he must have guessed what Frisk was about to say.

"Undyne didn't move either... I think she was thinking the same thing. We both started to move when he cried he was slipping. But we were too late. He fell," Frisk said. "I closed my eyes so tightly. I wanted Undyne to attack me. I thought I deserved it. I wanted so badly to go back in time, to fix my mistake. And I did. When I opened my eyes again, I was in Waterfall town."

"Say that again," Lupin asked.

"I went back in my own history. I went back in time. Everything played out just the same as it did the first time. He told me again, how monsters and humans were supposed to be enemies. He turned and ran, I told him to stop... but he fell again. This time I ran after him. If Undyne struck me, I would have deserved it."

"But she didn't," Frisk said. "and I helped him. I don't know how I got back. And Undyne didn't remember. But Flowey did... he was waiting for me. 'You think you're so clever. But I know what you did. You let him fall. Then you went back, because you regretted it. Heeheehee. You're not the only person who's had that power. To 'Save'. But your desires for this world are stronger than mine. How interesting. I'll be watching.'."

"But that child isn't the one you saw fall, though, was it?" Lupin asked.

Frisk shook her head. She told Lupin what happened the first time she met Asgore. How she had to fight within an inch of her life... and how she almost killed him. How Flowey had finished the job when she refused to kill him. Then how he'd become that nightmarish creature, stealing the other human souls.

"When I defeated him, the souls escaped. He wanted me to kill him. But I couldn't. He looked so miserable. So... lonely. I hid after that. I knew the monsters would blame me for killing Asgore. But Flowey found me again. He told me... he could think of a better ending to my story. I'd have to go back in time. Like I did before. 'Reloading my save', he called it, like it was some sort of computer game. So I shut my eyes, I was determined to find a way to save Asgore... and again, I did... I went back." Frisk scanned Lupins face for signs of disbelief, but she didn't see any.

This time, she didn't just talk about the encounter with Alphys, she told Lupin everything about the True Laboratory. The experiments with determination, the amalgamations, everything. "I'm trying to remember what McGonagall said. The flowers came from the human world, right?"

"They did," Frisk said, "Asriel brought the seeds with him when he passed back through the barrier. They were stuck to him."

"Wait, are you saying..." Lupin said, and his eyes were wide.

Frisk nodded. "Flowey is Asriel Dreemurr. The son of Toriel and Asgore Dreemurr," Frisk said, and the tears had started flowing again. "Flowey is Asriel without a soul." And she finished the story, telling Lupin how Flowey had taken the six human souls, and every single monster soul in the underground, and reconstituted his full body. How they'd fought for control of the timeline... and how Frisk won. Asriel had shattered the barrier, returning the monster souls, freeing the human ones, and confessing he'd turn back into Flowey. "I found him again later," she said, "where I first fell. I think he was waiting to turn back."

"So that's who the boggart was," Lupin said.

"That's not the end," Frisk said. "I wanted to save him so badly. Asriel didn't do anything wrong. He was alive, he was right there. So I went back. I went **all the way** back. I was going to find something I could change."

"All the way back?" Lupin asked. "Back where?"

"Not where... when. To the time when I first fell," Frisk said, her eyes still leaking. "It's funny, that's what Asriel and I were fighting over, and I gave him his wish anyway. I changed some things, I went back again. I tried more things, I went back again... I think I had everyone convinced I was a time traveler on one cycle or another. The only one who really noticed was Sans, not even Flowey did. I don't know if Sans remembers it all, or he's just a good guesser. But, 'Despite everything, you're still you.' That's what he told me." Frisk's words had gained steam, coming out at a much faster clip.

"On my last try, I thought I had the solution. I even knew it would work. I did everything as close as I could to when I first fell. And when Asriel had returned the souls, I did this." Frisk cupped her hands together, in front of her chest, and focused herself. After a moment, a dark red light shone through her shirt. Her soul, in the form of a bright, vivid, red heart, had emerged. "I'd gotten so used to it being called out in fights with monsters, I could do it myself."

Lupin was staring. Frisk stared too. Whether it was a familiar call, if it was some sort of echo, or just the proximity of Frisk's own soul, Lupin's soul had also come to the surface. His soul was yellow, not the bright yellow of the child's soul that she'd seen in Asgore's bottle, but a paler, more tired looking yellow. And as Frisk watched, it looked like it was being consumed, or attacked, by another more feral brown soul.

"That's your soul?" Lupin asked in amazement. He was apparently unaware his own soul was revealing itself.

Frisk let her focus wane, and both souls disappeared from view. "It is. And I was going to give it up, so Asriel would have a soul. So he could come back. But he didn't take it. He started crying again. 'No, Frisk, you need that soul. I don't want anyone getting hurt for me. I don't like it when people get hurt.' Then he realized how I knew to offer it. 'How many times have you done this?' he asked. I told him that I had lost count, and that horrified him. 'Frisk, you have to live your life!' He grabbed me by my wrists. 'If you really want to be my friend... you won't come back. Promise me! Don't come back!' and I didn't. I... I left him down there. He's still alive. Without a soul. **I LEFT HIM!** I'm sorry, Asriel, I'm so sorry."

Frisk buried in her head in her hands again as the memory became too much. A moment later, she felt Lupin's hand on her shoulder, patting it to calm her down. Frisk took a deep breath, and looked up at Lupin again.

"Is there anything we can do?" Lupin asked.

"Not unless you know how to give him a soul," Frisk said. When Lupin shook his head, Frisk tried to smile. "I didn't think so."

"Why didn't you bring him – as Flowey – with you? Out from the underground?" Lupin clarified.

"Without a soul, and still having the will to live, he was afraid he'd hurt people. Like he tried to hurt me, like how he had hurt his father." Frisk answered. There was quiet for a moment, as Frisk polished off the chocolate bar. "Watching him turn back into Flowey and not being able to help him..." she started.

"I can understand why being unable to help a friend is terrifying," Lupin said. He held out his hand. Frisk took it, and he squeezed it reassuringly. "And that's why you couldn't tell your parents. How can you tell them that you'd left their biological son behind? You're afraid of what they'd think." Frisk nodded glumly. "I think they'd be proud of you, Frisk. I can't say I've met them, but you did everything you could, right?"

"I guess."

Lupin regarded the young student. "You still think otherwise?"

"Magic itself seems to think otherwise. It keeps reminding me of it, each time I think I've put it behind me. But I can't go back any more. Each time I think about it, I think of all the people with lives that I'm just ripping away. I just can't focus like that anymore, I don't want to."

Lupin opened and closed his mouth, at a loss of words, so after a minute of trying, he gave up. "And maybe you shouldn't. Why don't you go down to dinner, and I'll clean up the boggart?"

"Professor, Lupin, sir," Frisk said. He blinked at her. "When I focused my soul... I could see yours, too. It was under attack, sir. Are you OK?"

Lupin stared at her in amazement, then gave a wan laugh. "I said I knew what it was like to keep secrets, can you keep mine?"

"If it doesn't threaten your safety... or the safety of others," Frisk parroted.

The professor's expression changed, like he wanted to laugh but he couldn't. Then, for a moment, Frisk was convinced Lupin was going to cry. The sorrow was that prevalent in his face. "I guess I have to accept that, don't I? I'm a werewolf. During the three nights of the full moon, I can change into an unthinking, ravenous beast. Professor Snape is giving me a potion to control it, so I don't. Within the wizarding world, it's a horrible stigma. Nobody trusts a werewolf. Almost nobody, that is. Headmaster Dumbledore hired me anyway."

All Frisk knew about werewolves were what she'd read in non-magical stories. That they were one of many horrible beasts that would eat little children if they misbehaved. But Frisk had the chance to meet a lot of monsters in the underground, but they were all nice in their own way.

"And I do too. I think you're a great teacher." Frisk said. She held out her arms again, and Lupin reached out as well, and returned Frisk's embrace.

"Thank you Frisk. How about we go have dinner then?"

They both left to head down to the great hall. The boggart rattled in the desk behind them.

* * *

That Saturday, Frisk woke early. She dressed quickly, and headed downstairs for breakfast. She didn't realize it was Halloween until she saw the decorations. As she was eating her eggs and toast, she wondered what costume Toriel would wear, and pictured her in a classic witch's outfit. It actually suited her pretty well. Food finished, she walked quickly to the castle entrance.

The entrance, however, was full of students anxious to get out of the school and start their Hogsmeade weekend. "No first years allowed!" said a familiar blond Slytherin as she tried to make her way into the line. Frisk retreated to the halls edge, remembering McGonagall's warning about keeping a low profile. She waited until the castle's caretaker had let everyone else through.

He looked at her grumpily. "You heard Malfoy. No first years."

Frisk looked back in him in shock. "But... but... my head of house said..."

Behind her, she heard McGonagall's voice. "She's not on your list, Mr. Filch, and that's intended. I'll be seeing her out." The professor gave her a no nonsense look, and waved her toward the door, walking out after her. At least the professor had a brisk walk, as Frisk was having trouble containing her enthusiasm.

She saw Sans first. He was smiling, as always, with his hands in his pockets. He was talking happily with Fred and George Weasley. Papyrus was next, and he gave a modest looking wave. " **Hello, friend Frisk!** " and then there was...

"MOM!" Frisk exclaimed, racing down the remaining yards, into Toriel's open, waiting, arms.

 _A/N: Frisk's experiences are predicated on my own Undertale playing, though I only made it three 'Loops' before I realized that you couldn't really change anything after a pacifist true reset and went looking for spoilers on how to save Asriel. You know the outcome of that. So I wondered what would happen if one could change things, how long people would keep looking. I know my answer. If you've enjoyed my writing and are willing to risk my subpar singing, look up my fansong "The One I Couldn't Save" on Youtube (handle: TreguardD) which is based on the same idea. I hope you are enjoying the fiction. -TZ_


	7. Treat and Tale!

It seemed to feel like forever until Toriel finally began to extricate herself from Frisk's arms. "I've missed you too, my child," she told Frisk. "But perhaps you should introduce us."

Frisk looked around and realized the professor was still there. She had a smile on her face, which was something Frisk had never seen in class. "Oh, right," Frisk said, "Professor McGonagall, this is my mom, Ms. Toriel Dreemurr. The skeleton here is Papyrus."

Papyrus went into a deep majestic bow at his name. " **The great Papyrus is happy to meet an esteemed professor of Hogwarts!"** McGonagall favored Papyrus with a single raised eyebrow. Frisk moved on quickly. "And that's his brother Sans, talking with Fred and George over there. Papyrus, Mom, this is my Transfiguration teacher, and head of house, Professor McGonagall."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor," Toriel said, giving a gentle bow. "Frisk has told me all about you and your class."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, looking down toward Frisk. "Only good things, I hope."

"Actually," she said. "Frisk says she has a lot of trouble with transfiguration," she paused as Frisk's face turned scarlet. "But she says you're helpful to her."

McGonagall laughed. "It's not about talent. It's about practice, and Frisk puts the practice in. She may not be the quickest student, but she gets there, and that's the important part."

" **I have seen her with puzzles!** " Papyrus declared. " **She wouldn't give up until the puzzle was solved!** "

"The only class she's actually worried about is potions. She's written that that she doesn't think she's getting the subject well, but I find it more concerning is that she doesn't get the support from Professor Snape," Toriel said.

If Frisk had blushed before, she was mortified now. The young student did not want Snape to think she was complaining about his class. If he wasn't a good teacher, he would be at Hogwarts, right?

McGonogall was quiet, her eyes had fixed on Frisk with a steely gaze. "Don't hold it against Professor Snape. He has had a very difficult year for him so far." This was not the response Frisk had expected, and she looked up at the professor in confusion, but the stern gaze she got back told her she wasn't getting anything else on the subject.

Toriel wasn't as quite willing to let it go. "I wouldn't want to think that a professor is taking out personal issues on students..." she began.

"Professor Snape has had an additional time-consuming potion of his own the headmaster has assigned him to brew this term. It is an incredibly touchy recipe, and the extra workload has affected his mood," McGonagall said, primly.

" **Frisk is equally good at solving people!** " Papyrus told them.

While that didn't actually seem to satisfy Toriel, and McGonagall didn't seem happy about it either, it did provide the opportunity for Frisk to distract her by tugging her lightly at the hand. "Oh. I'm sure you're ready to go, aren't you, my child?" Frisk smiled and nodded, offering her hand for Mom to take. "Maybe we'll go for a walk, then have some lunch."

"hey," Sans said, breaking into the conversation. "i'm going to tag along with fred and george and see what zonko's is about."

" **What's Zonko's?"** Papyrus asked suspiciously.

"A joke shop!" said the twins responded in unison. "You can get all sorts of good stuff there," one of them added. Sans's eyelights glinted, and Papyrus groaned. Toriel tried to hide a smile by covering her mouth with a hand and disguising it with a cough.

"That's fine, Sans," Toriel said. "You can tell us all about it when we meet for lunch."

"I would suggest the Three Broomsticks for lunch," McGonagall said. "But let me remind you, Frisk will need to meet me back here at six for escort back to the castle.

"hm?" Sans asked, "frisk was capable of wandering through most of the underground with only me to keep an occasional eye socket on her. why the escort business?"

"Think of it as liability. We are, after all, a school, Mr. Sans," McGonagall told him. "And there are dementors patrolling around the grounds."

"I'll tell you about them, Mom," Frisk said, as Toriel looked puzzled, "can we go?"

"Thank you again, Ms. McGonagall," Toriel said, letting herself be pulled away by Frisk. "And please pass my thanks on to the headmaster for me."

Then they were, finally away. It was good to see Mom and Papyrus again, and she'd certainly catch up with Sans later, but there were people missing. "Where's Dad?" Frisk asked, as they headed off, vaguely in a direction toward the village. There was quiet for a moment, and Toriel got a distinctly unhappy look in her eye.

" **Asgore was supposed to be with us. But he said that the Ministry of Magic had contacted him, and there was something he had to do. He would not tell us what that something was,"** Papyrus said.

"Asgore was supposed to be with us at Diagon Alley, too," Toriel said. The dark tone in her voice was unique to when she talked about her former husband. "He gave the same excuse then."

They'd reached the outskirts of the village. None of the shops had particularly caught her eye, though knowing Toriel's sweet tooth, she was pretty sure she'd end up in Honeydukes Sweetshop before the day was over. The streets were crowded with Hogwarts students, all reveling in their day of freedom. "So where should we go?" Frisk asked.

" **We could go to see the Shrieking Shack,** " Papyrus suggested. " **I have been told it is the most haunted building in Britain. Maybe there will be skeletons!"**

Nobody had any objections, so they skirted around Hogsmeade on their way to the shack. "There's actually a number of ghosts in Hogwarts," Frisk said. She'd seen the house ghosts, and had the chance to introduce herself to Nearly Headless Nick. It might have been nice to figure out a way to get Napstablook a chance to meet them, but she wasn't sure any of them knew what a mixtape was, let alone having them enjoy it.

The Shrieking Shack was actually kind of disappointing, but it wasn't about the destination, it was about spending time with her family and friends. About the monsters attempting to integrate on the surface, Woshua had apparently gotten a job in the Ministry as a janitor, while Muffet was attempting to open a bakery. About people Frisk had met in Hogwarts, from Opal, to Ginny, to Luna.

Mentioning Luna brought up the interview that Toriel had done with the Quibbler. "It was kind of fun, actually," explained Toriel. "It was all the things I haven't been asked by the Ministry or the Daily Prophet. We got into a conversation about gardening, about cooking, about what it was like to have a child so recently adopted at Hogwarts. It's what prompted me to write to the Headmaster asking if there was a time I could see you." Frisk gripped Toriel's hand a little tighter, and smiled up at the monster.

They met up with Sans at the Three Broomsticks a little after twelve. "zonkos wasn't bad," he reported, "but seemed to cater more to the kids than someone with taste, such as myself."

" **Taste?** " Papyrus asked, " **You?"**

"i'm a bone-a-fied professional, Papyrus," Sans said with a wink.

Papyrus cried out in pain while Frisk and Toriel covered their mouths to hide the giggles. Each of them was treated to an order of fish and chips, Papyrus's had malt vinegar, Sans's had ketchup. Lots of it. Over the fish too. In fact, he probably would have emptied the entire bottle if Toriel hadn't interrupted his pour with a "We should save some for others.".

"Wait," said Frisk, coming to a sudden realization. "How can you eat human food? Doesn't it go right through you?"

"It's Magic," Sans said, winking again, and that was the only answer she got.

After lunch, there was (as Frisk had suspected) an obligatory trip into Honeydukes. But when they got in, she had to stare in amazement at the sheer number of types and flavors of candies and chocolates available. The half-empty shelves suggested that there would have been even more of they'd made it their first stop. Toriel loved every second of it. The quick discovery of "Chocolate Frogs" prompted an immediate search for "Chocolate Snails". Though that search, to Frisk's relief, ended in failure.

There were surprisingly few of Hogwarts students in the store at the time. One of them, though, approached Toriel while Frisk was elsewhere in the store. "Excuse me," she said. "You're Toriel Dreemurr, right? Frisk's adopted mother?"

Toriel gave a nod. "I am Toriel." Frisk stuck her head around the corner of a shelf, and saw Ron Weasely and Hermione Granger. Toriel must have recognized the insignia on the robes. "Ah, you are from Gryffindor, are you not? Are you friends with Frisk?"

"No," Ron admitted. "But my brothers say good things about Sans... and Papyrus," he added quickly, as the taller skeleton walked into view. "Papyrus managed to tame one of the monster books in the store," he told Hermione, who looked impressed.

Frisk walked to join Toriel. Hermoine gave her a hard look for a moment, then looked up at Toriel and seemed to make a connection. She looked at Sans next and broke into a smile. "I wish my father could meet you."

"why?" Sans asked.

"He's a dentist. He'd love to see such a perfect set of smiling teeth," Hermione explained. She then introduced Ron and herself.

"It is good to meet you, Ron, and Hermione. But, perhaps you could help me?" Toriel asked, "I would like to buy some treats to try, but there are so many, what would you recommend?" For the next fifteen minutes, Toriel had a grand time taking recommendations from the two older students. Frisk was dubious about a candy advertising itself as 'A Risk in Every Mouthful', no matter how much Ron recommended it, but the Fizzing Whizbees did sound tasty. "You can have some extra," Toriel told her adopted daughter, "It'll make good gifts for your friends that couldn't come.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other. "That's a good idea. We should get some for Harry," Hermione said. And after a few more minutes of gathering, Hermione checked her watch. "We should go, Ron, if we want to see the Shrieking Shack before it's time to go back up for the feast. It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Dreemurr."

Frisk, who knew to look, saw a dark look pass over Toriel's face, but the monster didn't complain. After paying for their own purchase, they left the candy shop. "Is there anywhere else you'd like to go?" Toriel asked.

Something had occurred to Frisk after Toriel had suggested taking extra gifts back to the castle, "Actually, there is. Does Hogsmeade have a pet shop?"

" **A pet shop?** " asked Papyrus. He looked at her curiously, " **Do you want some company at school? You seem to have made a collection of friends.** "

Frisk shook her head. "No, but there's a cat that I think could use a friend,"

"Of course we can find a pet shop," Toriel said, "Then maybe another walk before we have to walk you back up to school."

Six o'clock came far too soon, but it came. Toriel, Frisk and the skeletons headed back up towards the castle grounds, where Professor McGonagall was waiting to take her the rest of the way. With another request to thank the Headmaster for this opportunity, some final hugs, Frisk said goodbye to Toriel, Papyrus, and Sans, and started to make the long walk back up to the castle. In her bag, she had a fresh supply of Mom's new favorite cookies.

* * *

"Where were you today?" Ginny asked as Frisk sat down next to her at the Halloween feast. "I checked the tower, the library, and most of the grounds. I thought you might want to join me, Opal, and Luna for some flying lessons."

Frisk stared down at her plate. She didn't want to lie to Ginny. "I'm not supposed to say," Frisk mumbled. Ginny gave her a 'You're not being serious look' that just made Frisk feel worse. She stirred the food without eating any. "Do you," she whispered, "promise not to tell anyone?"

"Opal and Luna know you were missing," Ginny said. Then she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "But I think we can keep it to the three of us," she said. Ginny's eyes were wide with excitement.

Now Frisk was afraid of disappointing Ginny. "No, it's nothing like that," Frisk admitted quietly. "Mom, Sans, and Papyrus came up to Hogwarts, and I was allowed to go into Hogsmeade with them. Please don't be jealous... it's because..."

Ginny put her hand on Frisk's shoulder. "Because you didn't have time to spend with them before. I'm envious that you got to leave the castle, but you deserve it after what you went through. But what's Hogsmeade like? I've never been there!" They spent the rest of the dinner discussing Hogsmeade, sharing Honeydukes sweets, and talking in general. After dinner, they joined the tail end of a throng of Gryfindor students heading up to the tower. They came to a screeching halt just at the top of the seventh-floor staircase.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked. "They can't all have forgotten the password, can they?"

"I'll find out," Frisk volunteered. The smaller girl agilely ducked and dodged between the crowd of larger students until reaching what should have been a portrait of the Fat Lady covering the entrance to the Gryfindor common room. She stared at the horrible slashed, ripped to shreds canvas she found instead.

* * *

Frisk had wanted to talk to Dumbledore before he left the main hall, but he departed so quickly and purposefully that she didn't have the chance. Instead, she took a sleeping bag from the cluster, and went looking for Luna, Opal, and Ginny, to take advantage of this rare advantage to sleep with her friends in the other houses. Any envy the non-Gryfindors had felt over Frisks temporary release from Hogwarts had been quickly smoothed over by the candy gifts.

"Who's Sirius Black, anyway?" Frisk asked, keeping her voice low, so as to not disturb anyone actually trying to sleep.

"He was one of the followers of Voldemort," Luna told her. Opal and Ginny both flinched as she said the name. "He murdered a number of Muggles, and Daddy said he was responsible for the death of Harry Potter's parents."

"Please don't say that name," Opal said, weakly. "It's bad luck."

"Oh, sorry," Luna apologized. "I didn't know."

Ginny had gone white, and she clutched at the sleeping bag with her hands, hard.

"Ginny," Frisk said, "are you feeling OK?"

It took a few seconds for Ginny to come back to herself. "I am now," Luna looked understanding, but Opal and Frisk were only confused more. "Last year," Ginny began, "I was possessed by a memory of you know who," and she proceeded to tell them the entire story around the Chamber of Secrets, ending in the basilisk's defeat.

"I feel sorry for it," Frisk admitted.

"Feeling sorry for what?" Ginny asked in astonishment, "the memory?"

"No," Frisk said, "for the basilisk. I wonder if it even could control its power."

"With a creature like that," Ginny said, "It's kill or..."

"It's never kill or be killed, there's always a chance. A choice," Frisk said, unable to keep the sadness out of her voice. "Flowey asked me once, what would I do if I met a relentless killer. I'd die, and I'd die, and I'd die..."

"Surely you'd only die once," Luna said.

Frisk's eyes went wide for a moment before she tried to cover it with a smile. "Flowey liked to emphasize. But I never did meet a killer. If the creature hadn't been controlled by the memory of..." she cast about for an alternative, "the Big V, maybe things could have been different."

"I don't want to ever have to find out," Ginny said coldly.

There was an awkward silence for a few moments. "Do you want to practice flying tomorrow, since we didn't do it today?" Opal asked.

"Please? If you two don't mind," Frisk said.

"Sure," Luna said. And after another minute, Ginny agreed. Then they also agreed that it was a good time for sleep.

"Thank you for telling the story, Ginny," Frisk said, "It can't have been easy to share something so personal."

"You're welcome, Frisk," the older girl told her.

Frisk tried to sleep, but the story Ginny told her, the idea that a murderer had tried to get into their tower, and the general excitement of the day kept her awake. She was unsure of the time when she heard footsteps enter the hall. She looked up, saw the headmaster, and quickly pushed herself to a standing position to go speak with him. Percy must have spotted her, she could hear him hissing to get back to bed.

The headmaster looked around at them, and moved to intercept. "Headmaster," Frisk said, "I apologize, but I wanted to know, is the Fat Lady OK?"

Dumbledore, his face illuminated by the ghosts hovering overhead, smiled kindly at Frisk. "We did find her, and she will be fine." He turned to address Percy as well, "When she calms down, I'll ask Filch to restore her." He turned back to Frisk, "Is there anything else, Ms. Dreemurr?"

"Do you think she'd mind if I went to check on her tomorrow?" Frisk asked.

"I think that's a very kind idea," Dumbledore told her, his eyes twinkling.

"And thank you," she glanced at Percy, "you know what for." Dumbledore smiled at Frisk, and Frisk retreated back to her sleeping bag. This time, she was able to sleep.


	8. A Snape In The Class

The next morning, the students finally had the chance to get to their rooms and change out of yesterday's clothes. Frisk and Ginny detoured on the way back to the Great Hall for breakfast to find the Fat Lady. They finally discovered her on the third floor in a painting of a tea shop, crammed into one of the booths. It took them a few minutes for get her to acknowledge them, but she finally did.

"I just wanted to make sure you were all right," Frisk said. "You're always so nice to us."

"I know what it's like to be attacked," Ginny said in agreement.

The Fat Lady looked touched, but only for a moment before her nervousness showed through again. "That's very nice of you," she said simply. They chatted for a little bit, mentioning that Sir Cadogan had taken over as guard at the portrait hole. "I am glad someone is be able to watch over Gryffindor," she told them.

"I'm not sure about him," Ginny admitted, "He's brave to take the position so soon after it being attacked, but he called me a 'Scurvy dame' and challenged me to a fight."

"His first password is 'slithy toves'," Frisk said, "and he suggested he will be changing it up shortly. I'm not looking forward to this."

After a few more minutes, they said their goodbyes with a promise to come back later, and went to join Luna and Opal for breakfast and Frisk's remedial flying lessons. The Hufflepuff and the Ravenclaw were already waiting for her near the broom closet. The calendar had turned to November, and the weather outside was letting them know it. While it was dry at the moment, they could see the clouds in the distance promising at least rain, and maybe storms as well.

As for flying itself, Frisk was improving, which was probably a kinder way of saying not falling further behind. They were up for about an hour before Gryffindor's team came to take their scheduled practice. Angelina Johnson was much politer about asking them to leave than the Slytherins had been. "If the match wasn't this week, I think it'd have been fine to watch," she confessed, "but Oliver's already walking on eggshells, and I think any distractions would cause him a complete meltdown."

It was a fair request, so the girls landed (and Frisk was proud, it marked her first session without falling) and headed back up to the castle for lunch. "Anything you'd like to do this afternoon?" Ginny asked. "Exploding Snap?"

"I really ought to catch up on my homework," Frisk said, "But I've never heard of Exploding Snap before. Is that a game?"

Ginny pulled a deck of cards from her pocket, and after a few minutes going over the rules, they played through several hands. It was almost an hour later before Frisk finally held up her hand to say she'd had enough. "I really need to get some of my homework done, I have to go."

She arrived back at the tower where Sir Cadogan was threatening a panicked Neville over his lack of password. "Slithy toves?" she offered, really hoping he hadn't changed it yet. The knight in the portrait gave her a disappointed look, but obediently opened to reveal the passage behind him.

"Thanks," Neville said, as he led the way up to the Gryffindor common room. "I have a terrible memory, and if he keeps using these nonsense words..."

"We'll look out for each other," Frisk said, giving the older boy a soft smile.

"But it's so embarrassing," Neville said, shaking his head.

"None of us can be good at everything," Frisk told him, "You should see me flying."

"I guess," Neville moped. He continued up to the boys' dormitory, while Frisk found a seat near one of the walls, to work on Snape's latest potion essay.

* * *

Ginny and Frisk were good to their words, detouring to visit the displaced guardian each day when they could spare a few minutes. On that Thursday, for the first time in a few weeks, Frisk was treated to the sight of Hermione dashing through the castle corridors, and she was finally curious enough to trail after her. When Hermione turned the corner, Frisk peered around after her, and what she saw only inflamed her curiosity further. Hermione had vanished, and as far as Frisk could tell, there was nowhere for her to go. The corridor was too long for her to have rushed all the way through it, and as far as she knew, there were no classrooms on that hall, so where had Hermione gone?

Frisk was booking it back to Defense Against the Dark Arts when the bell rang. She made it into the class room a minute or so afterward, and was prepared to apologize profusely to Professor Lupin, but Lupin wasn't there. Instead, it was Professor Snape giving her a cold look as Frisk quietly slid into a seat.

Once he'd finished taking attendance, Snape handed back the homework from the previous week. If Frisk thought he was going to be any kinder in this class, as a substitute, she was mistaken. In fact, he was cruel not only to the students, but to their normal teacher as well. The combination was starting to make Frisk very uncomfortable. How was it fair to go after someone who wasn't there to defend themselves?

"Now, are there any questions regarding last week's assignment?" Snape asked, glaring around at the class. Since nobody else did, Frisk slowly raised in her hand in the air. "Ms. Dreemurr," Snape asked, glowering at her.

"Professor Snape, is Professor Lupin okay?" she asked, her normally quiet voice barely audible.

Snape sneered at her. "That does not regard to the previous assignment, Ms. Dreemurr." His face twisted into a thin smirk. "But he says he is too ill to teach today. Now, are there any _actual_ questions about last week's assignment?" When nobody had any, he continued. "Then, open your books. Turn to page 394. Today," Frisk felt a knot form in her stomach. "We will be discussing Werewolves."

There was silence as people opened their books, some fast, some slow. There were distressed murmurs through the class about what could possibly be wrong with Professor Lupin. They weren't supposed to be covering werewolves. Snape knew about Lupin's condition, too. He was making the potion for Lupin. Why do this now?

There wasn't much of a discussion, not even much of a lecture. While Snape added a few things to the information found in their textbook, it was mostly reading, but the class completely silent. If anyone had any questions, they didn't dare ask.

As the bell rung, Snape made a swift motion with his arm, and the Gryffindors waited. "I want an essay, handed to me on Monday afternoon in Potions. One roll of parchment on how to recognize and _kill werewolves_." At those last two words, Frisk let out a small cry of alarm. Snape rounded on her, and stepped forward menacingly. "Is there a problem?"

"No..." whispered Frisk. "No, sir."

"Good. You may go," said Snape.

There was a near panicked rush to get out of the Defense classroom with his dismissal. Frisk sat stock still, still thinking about those two words. When the rest of the class had departed, Frisk finally started gathering her things, but as she stood up, she look at Snape, and looked him right in the eyes and asked, "Are you afraid of him, sir?"

Snape's already dark voice took on a deathly chill, "Five points from Gryffindor... for insinuating that I am a coward."

Frisk looked down. For a moment, she wanted to know what kind of damage a soul like that had sustained. Almost unconsciously, she focused herself on trying to see. "Mom says," she said, "Pain and fear can make you do things you never thought you'd be able to do."

"Another five points from Gryffindor, and I suggest you choose your next words very carefully," Snape said, his voice was almost monotone.

Frisk could feel her own soul coming into view, but with Snape so focused on Frisk's face, she wasn't sure he saw it. But she could see Snape's... and it looked empty. Just a hollow shell, with thin tendrils of blackness on the outskirts... was this the LOVE that Sans had talked about? But, and how had she almost missed it she wasn't sure, in the center was a tiny, yet extremely bright core of yellow, burning the blackness back even as it tried to creep in further. "He trusts you, you know. Lupin trusts you."

Snape's sudden derisive snort broke Frisk's concentration, and she fled, the fastest she had gone since running from Undyne the first time.

Frisk didn't even try to start that essay until the next day after classes. At that time, she had it on good advice that the common room would be loud with excitement over the next day's quidditch match. So she went down to the library instead, where there was a handful of students of all four houses working all sorts of projects.

Hogwart's library was the largest collection of books she'd ever seen, and she had seen non-wizard libraries. The locked door in the back labeled restricted section was nerve-wracking and curiosity inducing at the same time. But today, Frisk wanted to find books about Werewolves, and that meant starting at the card catalog.

With a list of likely titles in hand, Frisk went to the shelves to search on books before starting to the essay. The number of books that were already missing however, made the search difficult. Frustrated, Frisk headed to the librarian for suggestions, but Madam Pince, disagreeable on the best of days, was downright grumpy tonight. "I have asked and asked professors to make sure to vary their assignments so the books have a chance to recover! But no, just how many classes did Lupin give werewolves too, anyway?" she complained.

"Professor Snape was substituting for Lupin, actually," Frisk whispered.

"Then he definitely knows better," the librarian groused. She got up from her desk though. "Werewolfism: A Defensive Study" was checked out, "A Muggle's Guide to Lycanthropy and Werewolfism" was similarly missing. The one they finally found, though it didn't give Frisk much hope for actual information on her essay was "Werewolves: the Wizarding World's Secret Shame."

"You will not," Madam Pince began, "Eat while reading this book. You will not fold the corners of the pages of this book. You will not take this book to the restroom..." she went on with multiple things that Frisk would not do.

"I'll just read it right here," Frisk whispered, wondering if the rumor was true, that she did think the books more valuable than students.

"Good idea," Madam Pince told her, before moving quickly over to scold a pair of Hufflepuffs for talking too loud, which was to say, barely above a whisper.

As Frisk read through the book though, taking notes with her pen, she grew horrified. Lupin was right. Wizards afflicted with werewolfism had been ostracized, hated, and hunted, and this book was giving gory details. She continued to read until the librarian told them it was time to put their books away (the words, "Or check them out" were not included).

She took her notes back up to Gryffindor common room, all the while thinking what would happen if Lupin's secret was discovered by someone who didn't care for him as a teacher. Would they try to get him sacked? Would they do something even worse? As she sat in the noisy common room, she knew she had to tell a teacher, but the best place to do that before Monday would be at the staff table, and that was in front of Snape. But, Gryffindor was playing in the game tomorrow, right? That would mean McGonagall would be there, right? If she could just get a second of her time then, that would be fine.

But what about the essay? She still had to do the work, thinking that Snape wanted to expose Lupin to fear and anger was one thing, but it wasn't... she paused at that thought. Why did Snape want to expose Lupin like that? He said it wasn't fear, but she wasn't sure she believed that. What if, instead, she wrote an essay about how (she cast about for a word describe humans and monsters as a collective and settled on) mortal werewolves were... just like anyone else. It wouldn't make Snape happy, it might even get her a detention... but once it crossed her mind, she just couldn't get rid of the idea. It reminded her too much about the report she'd read in the Snowdin Library. She'd start with the historical context, then today, then hope for the future, including how a truly masterful potion maker could give them an almost normal life. She took out a fresh sheet of parchment, and began to write.

* * *

"You intend to go out in that?" Frisk asked, plaintively. The weather had been getting more and more threatening all week, and that Saturday morning, it had finally broken. It wasn't just raining, it was pouring, and Frisk had been convinced she'd seen lightning in the distance. Sans may have loved the storms, he could watch the chaotic falling of raindrops for hours. Frisk had grown up with it, and she preferred staying dry.

"Might be better if her first Quidditch game was in good conditions," Opal said.

"It'll be fun, even if we're not playing Slytherin. We've got an umbrella, we've got a blanket," and Opal cheerfully showed off the large blue, fuzzy blanket,"...enchanted with a waterproofing charm, what..." Ginny replied.

"Don't say _that_ ," Luna complained. "Magic'll hear you."

"It'll be a good time, C'mon. Let's go," Ginny said.

Frisk looked dubiously into the torrents of water, but really didn't want to miss the chance to talk to the professor. So off she went, huddled with Ginny under a red umbrella, while Luna and Opal utilized Opal's Hufflepuff gold one.

"Is it okay," asked Frisk, shouting to be heard over the rain, "That we're supposed to be rooting for different sides?"

"It's a **game** ," Opal shouted back, "As long as it's a good game, it doesn't matter, does it?"

That was something Frisk could agree with, but after about fifteen minutes, she still wasn't sure that it was a good game. She was a having a hard time seeing anything other than the players. She could see them focused around a main ball. "That's the quaffle, right?" she asked for probably the fifth time or so. There were two other fast-moving balls that she saw only when they nearly hit other players. And a small golden victory ball that determined the length of a match? That just baffled her.

On another, warmer, day she would have continued to badger her friends with questions about the game. She could ask them to explain the game another day, for today, she would rather just let them shout, as she huddled under the blanket for warmth.

The game ran long, she thought it would only take half an hour, but it kept going. And the weather got worse. After a while, Frisk really did see lightning, and she heard the thunder several seconds later. It wasn't here yet, but it was going to be soon.

And it was cold. In fact, it was a lot colder than she was expecting. Rain didn't usually affect the temperature like this, at least not in Frisk's experience. It wasn't until she looked further up that she saw the black cloaks of dozens dementors twisting about like some sort of storm rider.

And... above them, there was a form growing larger by the moment. No, not a form, a _player_ , and she... or he... was _falling_. Gripped by memories of both her own falls and the Monster Kid's fall, probably brought about by the dementors, Frisk tore the blanket off from the startled other girls and raced down the stands to the shouts of... "Harry! He's falling!"

When she reached the pitch, she was perplexed to find that she had beaten the falling Quidditch player. She looked up to see him floating gracefully the rest of the way down. The dementors had scattered to Frisk-didn't-care-where, and the boy lay on the ground motionless. Frisk covered him with the blanket, her hand briefly touching his. He was deathly cold.

"Stand aside, please," came Dumbledore's voice from behind her. His voice was curt and authoritative, and Frisk quickly stepped to one side. The headmaster looked down briefly at the now covered Harry, and moved his wand in a rapid pattern. What looked like a free floating cot appeared in midair. Another quick incantation (this one Frisk recognized as a levitation charm) brought Harry on to the stretcher, and a third set the stretcher in motion up to the castle. Frisk followed along, partially to get Opal's blanket back for her, but also to see if there was any way she could help. She was soon joined by Ron and Hermione, and a few minutes later by the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team.

* * *

Frisk stood near the door, watching the Quidditch team, Hermione, and Ron all crowding around Harry Potter. But Frisk was waiting for Madam Pomfrey, who was being furious with the Headmaster. "I understand, Poppy," he was saying, "They are not supposed to be on school grounds. I will be telling Cornelius that if it happens again, I will remove them personally. I do not like their presence any more than you do. But I do not like the thought of Sirius Black here either." Madam Pomfrey put her hands on her hips and harrumphed. "I know you will take good care of him. I will go speak to the dementors and compose my threat now, while it is fresh."

Madam Pomfrey turned to watch the cadre of concerned Gryffindors around the bed, and about jumped when Frisk said her name while standing next to her. "Madam Pomfrey, is there anything I can do to help you?" Frisk asked.

"To help Harry?" she asked, "No. We just have to wait until he wakes up. He was near them for a long time."

"No," Frisk explained. "Not Harry, you. With anyone you need. I like to help people."

Madam Pomfrey turned to regard Frisk, who looked small, bedraggled, but determined standing next to her. "Frisk, you're soaking. You should have changed already. Go!"

But Frisk didn't leave. "Do you ever need help? I want to learn to be a doc... healer." Healer was the term Ollivander had used.

"Come back when you don't look like you're about to catch cold, Frisk, and we can talk about it then," Madam Pomfrey insisted. "Until then, go!"

Frisk looked at the well-attended patient in the only currently occupied bed, fetched Opal's blanket to return to her later, and headed back to Gryffindor tower to act on healer's orders.

 _(A/N: They never fly in the books. I know. They fly in the films, though. And with Harry 8 feet up, and probably the most elevated of the active players; I figure other players would have been affected first if they were a lot closer.)_


	9. Consequences of Compassion

Frisk and Ginny left Sunday's breakfast together. They'd already visited with the Fat Lady, telling her how sick they both were of Sir Cadogen already, and it'd had only been a week. Now they were on their way down to the hospital wing. Ginny was clutching a hand-made get well card for Harry, and to Frisk's quiet amusement, seemed to already be blushing furiously.

The Hospital wing hadn't changed much from yesterday. Ron and Hermione were already there, Frisk wasn't sure they had actually left. Ginny went straight from embarrassed to completely mortified in the presence of her brother. She handed her card to Harry, who muttered "Thanks," with bemusement, and fled without saying a word.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Frisk asked.

"I'm alright," he told her, sitting up on the bed. "I'll probably head up to the common room soon." Frisk had turned toward the office door when Harry interrupted her. "You were the one that rushed to the ground when I fell, right?"

"She was, Harry," Herminone told him.

Frisk went pink at the cheeks. "I'd like to think everyone would do that."

"But you're the one who did," Harry told her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Frisk said. There were a few seconds of awkward silence, and Frisk turned back to the office door. She knocked.

After a moment, Madam Pomfrey opened the door. She'd calmed down significantly from the anger she'd shown yesterday. "What's wrong? Did you catch cold from those wet robes you were wearing yesterday? Do you need something to warm a chill?"

"Uh, no. Actually. You told me to come back when I didn't look like I was about to catch cold. I still want to help, so I have," Frisk said, smiling up at the healer.

Pomfrey looked at her first in surprise, then said thoughtfully. "Alright. I've needed to take inventory, so if you're serious, I'll get you some parchment, and a quill, and I'll let you go to work. Firsk nodded to Madam Pomfrey, took the offered the writing utensils, and went to the supply closet that had been pointed out to her. Opening the closet door, she found rolls of linen bandages, a few boxes of pills, but the cupboard was a veritable mess of potion bottles.

There were potions for dreamless sleep, potions for calming nerves, potions for blood replenishing. A vial labeled Skele-Gro. There were a few bottles labeled mandrake root essence, a few potions for pain numbing. In the back, there was a potion in a black bottle labeled "Drought of Living Death". What was that even for?

Frisk would ask later. She began to start her counts, making notes on her parchment as she did so. After the second time her quill blotted the parchment, she fished out a regular pen from her pocket, and started using that instead. There was also a collection of black stones in a box labeled "Bezoars". There were two unopened, and one opened jar of "Bernard's Burn Balm". Frisk dutifully cataloged it all, and went to give it to the healer.

"Oh?" Madam Pomfrey said, as she glanced at the list of supplies Frisk had given to her "Am I that low on Skele-gro? I shall have to order more."

"What's Skele-gro for?" Frisk asked. There was a loud grumble from the bed's occupant, and something that sounded like "Idiot Lockheart". This was followed by laughter from Ron and Hermione.

"If a bone has a simple, clean, break; it is a straightforward charm to mend it," Pomfrey explained, ignoring the others. "But if it is more complicated, it can be easier, rather than try to repair it, to simply remove it outright and regrow it." She paused for a second, "Or if you get your bones removed by a defense against the dark arts teacher that does not know his remedies."

Frisk blinked. There must have been a story there that she didn't know. It seemed like a bad idea to ask Pomfrey. She could ask Harry about it later, or maybe Ginny, she might know. In the meantime... "Is there anything else I can do to help?" she asked.

"Well, as long as you're here to give me an extra pair of hands, you can help me change the linens on the other beds," she said. Frisk followed her to the beds, and helped her first strip them, then replace with fresh sheets. "I could have let the house elves do it, but one never knows when one needs clean sheets."

Frisk was about to ask what house elves were when she was interrupted. "So, I've been thinking. I really don't mind having some extra help, and you said you wanted to learn," Madam Pomfrey told her. "So, you can come back. But, my patients have the strictest confidence. You are not to talk about anything you see here. And if I have truly sensitive patients, I will tell you to come back another time. Understand?"

Frisk did so, and thanked Madam Pomfrey for her time. She then asked, and got a full explanation of what House Elves were. She didn't like the way they were described as servants... but if it was what they wanted? She'd have to think about it. Then it was back to the Gryffindor common room to do the homework that she hadn't touched at all on Saturday.

* * *

It wasn't until Frisk sat down in Transfiguration and saw McGonagall that she remembered about Snape's essay. She was distracted most of the way through the lesson, trying to psych herself up to address the professor. When the bell rung, and the rest of the class headed down to lunch, Frisk sat paralyzed. Could she really do this? She could easily imagine how angry Snape would be... but the thought of Lupin being chased out was even worse. "Professor?" Frisk finally squeaked.

"Yes, Ms. Dreemurr?" McGonagall asked, arching an eyebrow in surprise when saw Frisk was still there.

"Professor Snape substituted in Defense Against the Dark Arts on Thursday," Frisk squeaked again.

"Yes, Dreemurr, I'm aware," McGonagall told her.

"And he gave us a homework assignment..." Frisk said, even more quietly.

"Professors, even substitutes, have been known to assign homework now and again," the transfiguration teacher told her dryly.

Frisk's voice was barely audible, and she stared down at the desk she was still sitting at. "It was on werewolves."

That got McGonagall's attention. She turned quickly, and stepped towards the student, bearing down with a sudden serious air. "What was that?" she asked.

"It was on how to recognize and kill werewolves," Frisk said in the same hushed voice, looking back up at McGonagall.

"I see," McGonagall said evenly. "Did you figure something out?"

Frisk shook her head and lowered her eyes. "No, Lupin told me himself. After we practiced with the boggart," Frisk swallowed, as she studied her desk. She was trying to figure out how to express her worry. "But... but... I was reading how werewolves were treated." She lowered her head, speaking at the floor, "It reminded me of how Mom was treated... except even worse. I thought other people would figure out professor Lupin, and he would be in trouble." Frisk nervously looked up at the professor.

McGonagall studied Frisk's anxious face. She didn't say anything at first. "Did... did that make sense, Professor?" Frisk managed to ask.

"It did, Ms. Dreemurr," McGonagall said, finally. "You are a very interesting child, especially for your age."

Frisk flinched. "I had to grow up fast in the orphanage."

"I suppose so, but it has made you into a very kind person. Thank you for the information. I shall make sure it is acted upon. Now, while you're here, I have a question of my own. Why did you race down to help Harry Potter on Saturday?"

"He was falling," Frisk said. "I've fallen like that twice. I remember what it was like, convinced you were going to die when you hit the ground, and not being able to do anything about it. I was lucky. I landed on a bed of golden flowers that broke my fall each time. That wasn't going to happen for him."

"Did you think you were going to catch him?"

"I don't know," said Frisk. "But I had to try something."

"Didn't it cross your mind that there were professors on hand for that kind of emergency?"

In her mind's eye, Frisk saw the monster kid, hanging from the ledge. Both her and Undyne were simply staring at each other, each expecting the other to move... to do something. "I can't wait for other people to act," Frisk said, "If there's even the chance I can help, I have to take it. I don't think I could live with myself if I didn't." Frisk knew it really wasn't hypothetical. If there was a chance to save people... she would try it.

"Which is why you're volunteering with Madame Pomfrey?" McGonagall asked. "Most first year sign up for something like chorus, or gobstones."

Frisk nodded. "I like helping people. I want to learn to be a healer."

"That is very admirable," the professor told her. Professor McGonagall gave Frisk one of her rare approving smiles, and it even touched her eyes. "That was my question. I suggest you go to lunch now."

"Is he okay?" Frisk asked, "Professor Lupin, I mean. Is he feeling better?"

"He is. You will see him today in," she caught herself. "You will see him Thursday."

"Thank you, professor," Frisk said. She stood, grabbed her books, and headed down the great hall to eat.

* * *

Frisk, along with the other first year Gryffindors and Slytherins, climbed down toward Snape's dungeon classroom. The door, as usual, was closed, and it opened precisely when the bell rung. The students filed in to their seats. Gryffindors to Snape's right, Slytherins to the left. A single row of open desks sat in the middle, creating a sort of neutral zone between the two houses. When the potions master was convinced everyone was on time, he pulled the door shut with a loud bang.

"Today, we will be working on an awakening potion. Directions, as always, will be on the blackboard. But first, you have an assignment you should be handing..."

There was a polite knock on the door. Snape ignored it at first. "Please get out the essay..." the rapping was longer, and louder, the second time. Snape stared at the door coldly. With a flick of his wand, the door opened again, and in stepped Dumbledore, who surveyed the room curiously. "Headmaster," Snape said. "How can I help you this afternoon?"

"Ah, Professor Snape," Dumbledore said. "I have it on good authority that you assigned an essay when you were substituting for Professor Lupin. It's due today, right?"

Snape looked around the Gryffindor side of the class darkly, suspecting one of them of tattling to the headmaster. His malevolent eyes focused suddenly on Frisk. Frisk looked back at him defiantly.

"Oh, don't look at your students, Professor," Dumbledore chuckled. "Ms. Pince was complaining to everyone who would listen how you were overworking the werewolf books, and had given them such a short turnaround time." Snape looked back at Dumbledore, and Frisk would swear a dark look passed between them. "Since you've told me you want the Defense job, I thought I would grade the essays with you, and see how you did handling the work as a substitute."

"At this time, headmaster, I have a potions class to teach," Snape said. His voice was dry enough that it would have caught fire if near an open flame.

"Completely reasonable, professor," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "I shall simply collect the essays now, and we can look at them either over dinner. Or perhaps just after it."

Snape looked like he was about to argue, but Dumbledore had already turned to the Gryffindor side of the potions class. Most of them, including Frisk, already had their essays out, the ones that didn't rapidly ruffled through their bags, handing them over to the headmaster. He then repeated the exercise on the Slytherin side. Once he'd collected all the parchment, Dumbledore nodded to the class, and bowed to Snape, before departing and shutting the dungeon door quietly behind him.

If Frisk had thought Professor Snape was in a bad mood normally, the headmaster's visit had left him practically seething. Once he'd set the class to work, he prowled through the class, pantherlike, ready to pounce on the slighted mistake a Gryffindor made. He only inspected the Slytherin side when one of them had a rare question.

It was when Frisk had just finished stirring her cauldron and was ready to check the next instruction when she realized Snape was standing over her with a positively evil smile. In that instant, she expected him to call her an idiot. He was wearing... a Flowey kind of smile.

"Miss Dreemurr," he hissed. "What have you just finished doing?"

"Stirring my potion seven times clockwise, professor?" Frisk offered. She realized, to her growing dread, that the cauldron in front of her contained a calm, sky blue, potion, and in just about every other cauldron in the room had a potion that was green and bubbling fiercely.

"Read the ninth line out to me," Snape said, flourishing his wand at the blackboard.

"Stir seven times..." and Frisk's stomach dropped, "counter-clockwise."

"As you can see," Snape announced, to a good deal of snickering from the Slytherin side of the class, "This potion is now ruined." He tapped Frisk's cauldron with his wand, and the contents vanished. "Next time, maybe she will **trust** her professor. For today, a **zero**."

Dejected, Frisk sat down, she glumly watched as the rest of the class finished their potion, and bottle it for inspection.

"For next time, I expect a roll of parchment on the uses of the awakening potion... and no complaints." He didn't look at Frisk, he didn't have to. Frisk packed up her bag and left with the rest of her classmates.

She was distracted from her thoughts when she was jostled by Gregory Schmidt. "Hey, Frisk. You alright over there?"

"I guess so," Frisk said in a voice that said she was anything but. "I can't believe I made such a stupid mistake."

"Why'd he single you out like that?" Greg asked her.

"I... I complained about the essay he assigned us in Defense Against the Dark Arts," she admitted.

"Why? It wasn't that bad, was it?"

Frisk was quiet. "I... I was asked not to talk about it. I'm sorry," she finally answered.

Gregory shrugged. "Hard to be sympathetic if you complain without a reason," he said.

"There was reason enough for Dumbledore to come in and look at it," Frisk countered.

Gregory shrugged, and without another word between them, they went up to dinner.

* * *

The essays were handed back by Percy Weasley the next morning. The paper, turned faced down, sat next to her eggs for a long while, with her not daring to turn it over. When the food was done, she stared at the back of the threatening parchment for several seconds. When she finally turned it over, she first saw the big red zero, in Snape's handwriting, that she expected.

After a moment, though, she realized it'd been lined out with black ink, in handwriting she didn't recognize. That same black pen had awarded her nine out of ten (-1, "for deviating somewhat from the assigned topic"). The black pen had circled certain parts of her essay, the references to the discrimination that werewolves had suffered (You should read "Hairy Snout, Human Heart", the black pen commented), and at the end, underlined twice, were her words, "Above all, it is important to remember, in human form, Werewolves are still completely the person they used to be. As capable of joy, and compassion (and, in red angry capitals, " **and anger, and hatred** "), as any other human or monster. They are the victims of a terrible tragedy, and should be treated with kindness, not fear." This was followed by a wet splotch on the paper, then in blue ink, in handwriting she recognized as Lupin's, two words: "Thank you".

At the bottom, again in the black ink, were the words: "Ten points to Gryffindor, for compassion, no matter what the personal cost. And ten points to Gryffindor, for quick reaction and willingness to help in an emergency."

Frisk clutched the essay to her chest, then put it carefully away in her bag.

A/N: _Hey out there. For those of you leaving reviews, thanks! For those of you leaving guest reviews, consider registering. I'd love to talk to some of you! (If you're a TVTroper, you can drop me a message there too as 'Treguard'.) And as always, thanks for reading.- TZ_


	10. Gifts of Realization

As the calendar turned towards to December, the weather had improved, which was to say it had gotten drier. It certainly had not gotten any warmer. Other aspects of Frisk's life hadn't changed so much. Sir Cadogan's passwords were still changing, still incomprehensible, and Frisk managed to forget them herself. Twice. Thankfully, there were other members of Gryffindor able to cover for her mental mistakes, just as she was there to help others.

Professor Snape still loathed her. He hadn't given her another zero, but he was on the lookout to point out and criticize her every error. He'd also taken to criticizing her deskmate, which caused a certain amount of consternation among the other students. It was a testament to the solidarity of Gryffindor that she had a partner in potions at all, but she never did have the same partner twice. She was able to visit the hospital wing most weeks, seemingly to Madam Pomfrey's surprise each time.

The colder weather didn't quite ground the extra flying practices Frisk was putting in, but it shortened them even more than the quidditch teams already had. It was one such Saturday, that Frisk, Opal, Luna and Ginny had finished warming up with a hot lunch in the Great Hall. After lunch, they worked through a few hands of exploding snap.

After about an hour, Frisk stood up, explaining that she had a project she wanted to do. "Oh?" Luna asked her. "What kind of project?

"I've been thinking," Frisk explained, "that Mr. Filch and Ms. Norris seem so unhappy. I'd like to do something for them."

"That's a waste of time, Frisk," Ginny said. "They might care for each other, but they hate the students. There's no reasoning with him, and if he really thinks that you've done something wrong, he threatens to torture you."

"One of the great mysteries of Hogwarts," Luna said, "is why he stays on in a place he hates so much, and why Dumbledore keeps on someone who hates students so much. The Ravenclaw opinion is that they are in a battle of wills as to who gives up first. Some people take bets."

"But that's awful," Frisk said, looking down towards the deck of cards. "Does anyone ever do anything nice for them?" she asked. The quiet that followed was its own answer. "Someone has to try. Does anyone want to come with me?"

Ginny declined, again calling the expedition a waste of time. She just didn't have the patience for it. Luna also demurred, saying she had homework to catch up on. "I'll come with you," Opal told Frisk. "I think it's worth a go, at least. Did you have something you were planning to do, specifically?"

"Mom had bought cat treats for me when we went to Hogsmeade. I'd forgotten about them when we were turned out of our dorms that night, and Snape's essay didn't help. I found them with the end of the Halloween candy," Frisk explained. "So let's find Ms. Norris."

Opal and Frisk combed through the castle, but though they had seen several of her fellow students, and a few of the teachers, she simply could not find her quarry. She stopped by the Fat Lady, still crammed into her teahouse booth, but while it was good to visit, she couldn't help. The normal guardian of the Gryffindor portrait hole was very specifically not paying attention to the outside world.

Finally, they happened across one of the Hogwarts ghosts on the fourth floor. This particular ghost was a heavyset man in a monk's outfit. "Excuse me, sir," Frisk said. But the ghost continued to mosey down the corridor. "Pardon me, Fat Friar?" Opal called.

The ghost paused in its floating, and turned to face the girls. "Oh! Hello!" he said, bowing to her. "How do you do?" His jovial face beamed at them

"I'm, uh, okay," Frisk said, "But I was hoping you might help me?" The Friar smiled even more broadly and motioned for her to continue. "I'm looking for the caretaker's cat."

"Ms. Norris?" The Friar managed to frown without his face losing any of its pleasant expression. "Why are you looking for her?"

In answer, Frisk reached into her robe pocket, pulling out the bag of cat treats. "We're trying to prove not all students are as bad as he thinks we are." Opal nodded in agreement.

The ghost looked at the two for what felt like several minutes, causing Frisk to wonder if he'd gotten caught in a memory of his mortal life. Finally, he looked up, above the girls' heads and said. "I saw Ms. Norris on the fifth floor not too long ago. Follow me." So saying, he floated in the air, and up through the ceiling. Apparently, unlike Napstablook, he had forgotten humans could not fly. The girls had to race to the main stairwell, up a staircase, and back the way they'd come to catch up to him.

Frisk was completely winded at the end of the chase. Opal had better endurance, but not by much. "Friar," she said, panting.

"Shh," Frisk said, still out of breath. "There she is." And Ms. Norris was there, staring through the ghost at the two girls, his eyes suspicious and unblinking. "Excuse us, Friar?"

"Hm? Oh! Sorry," said Fat Friar. He bowed to them and floated off to the side, watching them with great interest.

Frisk took the lead, she sat down, crossed legged, about eight feet in front of Ms. Norris. She opened the treat bag, and shook a few of the small brown pieces into her hand. She kept her voice soft, "I know there are a lot of students here who don't like you, Ms. Norris. But we're not all like that. I've brought you a peace offering."

"It's alright, Ms. Norris," Opal said, "Frisk is right, we don't all hate you."

Ms. Norris continued to stare at them, sitting down, her tail flicking back and forth, giving no hint about coming to take the offered gift.

Frisk slid the treats across the wooden floor, crossing about half the distance. "It's okay," she continued her stream of soft, steady, words of encouragement, holding her hand out in hopeful offering. But the cat still was aloof. This continued for several minutes, and Opal was just as patient as Frisk was. If Ms. Norris thought she could outlast the two girls, she had another think coming.

After another ten minutes, when Frisk was just thinking of needing to stretch, she was interrupted by a shout of, "Hey! What are you doing to my Ms. Norris!" and Frisk looked up into the red, upset face of the caretaker, Mr. Filch.

"I'm trying to introduce myself to your friend," Frisk said, maintaining the same quiet voice.

"Are you trying to poison her?" Mr Filch asked, his face twisting into a scowl. "I'll see you hung up by your thumbs if she even looks like she's coming down with something."

"We're not out to get you, Mr. Filch," Frisk said, blinking up at him. She reached into her robe's other pocket, pulling out a small bag holding one of Mom's cinnamon butterscotch cookies. "Here, this is for you."

"Oh, you think you can bribe me, then?" Mr. Filch snorted, making no attempt to take the offered gift. "So the next time I catch you or your friends trouble making..."

"No," Frisk said, shaking her head, "I'm just trying to say that not all students hate you like you seem to think we do."

Mr. Filch's expression was cold, "You're a liar. Get back to your common rooms, and leave Ms. Norris alone. Come along, my sweet." Mr. Filch walked back down the corridor, Ms. Norris trailing after him, with Frisk and Opal staring at their backs. The untouched cat treats still sat on the floor, and the now lonely looking cookie was still in Frisk's hand.

"That was... that was..." Opal tried to begin, though she couldn't come up with any words for what it actually was.

"Not entirely unexpected," put in the Fat Friar, as Frisk slowly put her baked good away. He hovered closer, and looked at Frisk curiously, "How are you not in my house?"

"The sorting hat stalled, he thought about putting me in Hufflepuff for a long time. But I've had some bad experience with flowers," Frisk said, still staring after the now gone caretaker.

"Oh well, I hope you two have a better afternoon. It has been good meeting you, Frisk," said the Fat Friar, and he disappeared through the floor, back to whatever haunting he was doing before. Frisk and Opal were left alone.

"What happened to him? What could have happened to a person to make him assume that everyone hates him?" Frisk asked. She still stared down the corridor Mr. Filch had gone down. "What could have damaged his soul like that?"

"What?" Opal asked. "Damaged his soul? What do you mean?"

"Your soul is the culmination of all that you are. It's what drives you, and allows you to make connections with other people... humans, monsters, anyone. But, Mr. Filch? He clearly couldn't connect with us. I wonder if his soul would look as empty as..." Frisk cut herself off. "Never mind."

"How his soul would look?" Opal demanded, "What does that even mean?"

"It's... a trick I learned from the monsters of the underground," Frisk said, and as Opal watched, fascinated, she focused on her soul. As always, it came to the surface, red and determined. Opal gasped in astonishment, staring at the bright red light of Frisk's soul. "Look down," Frisk said.

Opal let out a second gasp. Frisk could see her friend's soul, it shone with a bright sky-blue light, and she could see it too. Frisk let her concentration lapse. "I don't think Mr. Filch's soul shines like that, and I would like to help him change that."

"You're one of a kind, Fisk," Opal told her.

"I don't think I am, at least, I hope not. If I come up with another idea, would you come with me again?" Frisk asked.

"Of course. I will." They stood, smiling in the hallway. "But I guess we ought to go back to our common rooms. See you tomorrow, alright?"

"Sure, that's okay, I'll see you then," Frisk said. They nodded to each other, and went their separate ways. When Frisk got back to the Gryffindor common room, she found Neville outside again, desperately trying to remember the password. "Uh, Bambosh?" Frisk said, suddenly unsure herself. But she was rewarded with Sir Cadogan looking somewhat crestfallen about not being able to duel Neville, and opened their way up to the common room.

"Thanks," Neville said, sounding deeply discouraged, as they emerged into the crowded common room. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

"You'll get better," Frisk said, smiling at him. "I'm sure you can. But, uh, Neville?" she said, a thought occurring to her. "Do you happen to know what class Hermione has on Thursday afternoons?"

"Sure. History of Magic, then Muggle Studies," Neville told her. "I'm in the same ones. Anyway. Thanks for helping me with the password."

"It's okay, Neville, you're welcome."

Frisk was about to practice her latest transfiguration work when Harry Potter walked up to her. "Hey, Frisk."

Frisk nodded to him, "Hey, Harry."

"I... happened to overhear you asking what classes Hermione had on Thursdays. We're in the same ones, History of Magic after lunch, then Divination."

Frisk stared at him. "But Neville said she had Muggle Studies."

"Must be thinking of another day. You probably know what his memory is like," he said a bit guiltily.

Frisk didn't buy that. Not after what she had been seeing for the past few months. The mystery had deepened. How was Hermione managing to go to two classes at the same time?

* * *

It was the last weekend before the end of the Fall term. Most of the upperclassmen had gone into Hogsmeade for the day. Frisk left the unusually quiet common room, and headed down to the great hall, to meet her also castle-bound friends.

"Oh, Frisk, you're here?" Opal said, as she sat down next to them.

"I am," Frisk replied. "There really wasn't a reason for Mom to make the trek all the way northward when I'm taking the train tomorrow. That's okay with me. It's colder than Snowden out there."

"I guess that means no flying practice, either." Ginny said, grinning at her.

Frisk was a lot more stable on the broom now, but she still hated going too high up. Every time she did, her stomach started spinning, and she'd clutch the broom for dear life. She was the bottom of the class, and she knew it. "I really should," she said, staring towards the main door. "But..."

"But Happy Christmas to you," Ginny said, still grinning. "Term's technically over. So we'll pick back up when we get back."

"Yeah," Frisk said, finally smiling herself. "Merry Christmas to me. Let's stay in."

Opal had started dealing out her cards. "I've been meaning to ask you, Frisk. Are you American? You keep using American terms... 'okay', 'Merry Christmas', 'Mom'... why is that?"

Frisk was quiet for a moment. "I went through a lot of foster homes," Frisk explained, finally. "One of the ones I remember the best were Americans. They were stationed at," Frisk wracked her brain, trying to remember, "Upper Hayford? A military base? I don't really remember. I'm pretty sure it was against the rules, but they were volunteering, and there were a lot of us. Mister and Miss Macintosh."

"Why'd you leave?" Ginny said, looking up from the cards.

"They were transferred back to the states, and I think the base closed." Frisk said. "I still get letters from them now and again. I'd like to send them one, but what could I say? Fell down a hole, came up with monsters, and now go to a school for magic? I think the ministry wouldn't approve."

"No... they probably wouldn't," Opal agreed.

They played through a couple of hands of Exploding Snap, talking about school work, and their plans for the holiday season. "That's actually an interesting question," Luna said, after one hand.

"What is?" asked Ginny.

"What does one get monsters for Christmas?"

Frisk went scarlet. "You know," she said, "I haven't even thought of that. What do I get my friends for Christmas?" This prompted a lot of discussion, as Frisk told them what each of them was like. Papyrus and Dad were the easiest to sort out, they'd be happiest with books, a puzzle book for Papyrus, and a book on magical plants and gardening for Dad. Mom was a little tougher, but she liked to cook, so a recipe book would be a good idea. Undyne and Alphys were proving to be a lot tougher.

"What's anime?" asked Ginny.

Frisk blinked. How does one explain anime to someone who didn't know what a TV was? "Well, it's kind of like a comic book," she began. This took them on a detour through entertainment for magic-less people. She would have to have her friends over to see what anime was first hand, at some point.

"How about a book on dragons?" Ginny finally suggested. "My brother Charlie works with dragons, and he is always talking about them."

"Real life dragons?" Frisk asked, startled. "Oh. Right. 'Dragon Heartstring'. That's a brilliant idea, Ginny! They'd think they were the best thing ever. Then she frowned. But what do I get Sans?" Sans was hard. The only thing that had truly made him happy was his brother, and she didn't want to bring up what he had said when she'd encountered his soul directly.

There was quiet around the table, as nobody seemed to have a good idea. "You said he valued his memories?" Luna finally asked. Frisk nodded. "A camera," Luna said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "A wizard camera that can take moving pictures." That was also a great idea.

Satisfied, they went back to the card game. The conversation drifted between discussions of Potions (nobody liked Snape that much), to the decorations in the Charms room (Luna wondered what he had bribed the Fairies with), to what they actually hoped to get for Christmas themselves (Opal wanted a broom of her own).

"You know, there's been something that's bothering me," Frisk admitted as the clock began to wind towards dinner, and they started to think they should be packing things they wanted to take home. She explained how she'd seen Hermione race through the corridors, vanish into thin air, and then, apparently, manage to take two classes during the same period.

"Oh, that's easy," Luna said. "She travels in time."

Frisk felt her blood run suddenly cold. "Is that possible?" Opal asked.

"Sure. Daddy says the crumple-horned snorkack can travel in time when it is discovered, making it appear to vanish."

"Oh," Frisk said. "So it just goes back and makes different decisions, so it's not caught, right?"

"No," Luna said, tilting her head at Frisk, "it just goes back in time to before the hunter comes, then goes about its way. It has to be careful not to go to where it's already been though, since it is scared of meeting a prior version of itself. That's how you catch it."

"Luna... there's no such thing..." Ginny began.

"...no, is it really possible to travel back in time?" Frisk said, gripping the table intently, staring at Luna with a fevered expression.

"Frisk, are you alright? You don't look well," Opal said, and she looked worried. "Maybe you should go to the hospital wing."

"No. I need to know. **Can you travel back in time**?" Frisk asked, her intensity only growing.

Luna had been set to retort at Ginny, but she turned to regard Frisk with mild curiosity. "It's the simplest solution isn't it?"

It was the simplest solution, and Frisk released her death grip on the table, falling back in the chair. A single thought burned through her mind.

 _You can save him._

And she was filled with determination.


	11. Christmas Presents, Plans of the Past

The train ride back to King's Cross was a lot less quiet than the trip to Hogwarts. But Frisk had to force herself to focus on her friends. Her mind was elsewhere. At least there wasn't a dementor on the train out, since it was assumed Sirius Black was going to take another shot at Harry Potter. Outside, the snow covered British landscape rolled by.

"What's gotten into you, Frisk?" Opal asked finally. The four friends had taken a private box together. "You've been acting strange since yesterday in the great hall."

Frisk had gone back and forth since making the discovery. She wanted to tell them. How could she offer support to others, without seeking it herself? She didn't want to tell them. The more people who knew, the more chance her abandonment of Asriel would get back to Mom. She wanted to tell them, they were her friends. No, it was better if she got Sans's opinion first. But she wouldn't lie. She couldn't do that.

"C'mon Frisk, what's up? Why is the idea of time travel so important to you?" Ginny asked. "It's not like you can go back in time."

Frisk got up, and shut the door to the private box. "I need you to promise that what I tell you won't go beyond the four of us. It's really important." The other three girls nodded. Frisk recapped the story that Ginny had already heard for Luna and Opal, again omitting the fact she could go back within her own time line.

But the explanation of 'Determination', and the True Labs, that was all new. Luna caught on the fastest. "So the flower wasn't just some flower that was given the will to live, was it?" Luna asked.

"You're right," Frisk agreed. "The flower's original seed was brought to the underground when Asriel carried Chara's body back home from the surface. When monsters die, their bodies turn to dust. Asriel's dust covered the seeds..."

There was quiet from the others. "What would it be like," asked Luna, "to wake up, and find you've traded arms and legs for a stem?"

"It was worse. He didn't have a soul. He couldn't connect with other people any more. He did some... pretty awful things," and she told them about the true final battle. "I know he remembered his own compassion, when he felt how the souls he had absorbed felt about me. So, after shattering the barrier, he returned the souls, and set the human ones free."

"Then he changed back to Flowey," Luna reasoned.

"I need to find a way to save him," Frisk whispered.

"Are you trying to change the past?" Opal asked.

"That doesn't work," Luna said. "You change the reason you went back, and then you don't go back, and then Time gets mad at you."

Frisk had to take a second to work out what Luna meant. There was something in Luna's inflection that made it sound like she thought Time was a sentient force. While that didn't seem likely, she didn't think she wanted to pursue that idea at the moment. "I don't want to change the past," Frisk said, "Not really. I want to bring something back from the past. Asriel's soul."

Luna gave Frisk a look of mild curiosity. Opal simply stared. Only Ginny acted with complete surprise. "His soul? How does that work?" Ginny demanded. "How are you going to get hold of someone's soul and bring it back through time?"

"With monster soul magic," Opal said with dawning realization. "Like you showed me a few weeks ago," she said, describing the encounter with Mr. Filch.

Luna had sat up, looking genuinely curious. "Can we see?"

Frisk looked at the others, and stood, checking outside the box to see if there was anyone passing by. Again she focused on bringing her soul to the surface, and the bright red light soon came into view. After a few moments, the echo of Frisk's magic caused the other girl's souls to come into view. Opal's light blue was first, Luna's was next, a deep, dark, sea blue color. Then, with a bit more coaxing, the forest green of Ginny's soul completed the quartet.

Luna cupped her hands, giving Frisk the impression that she was holding the soul in them. Her face mimicked Frisk's look of determination. After a few seconds of demonstration, when Frisk let her concentration lapse, Luna's soul stayed visible. "Daddy says I wear my heart on my sleeves, is this what he meant?"

"Kind of, I guess," Frisk said, impressed that Luna learned that quickly.

"So when would you get his soul from?" Opal asked.

"Right after he died," Frisk said. "Monster souls don't live on after death like human souls do. But with Boss monsters, like Mom, Dad, and Asriel, their souls survive for a short time. If I can reach it, and find a way to keep it safe, I can bring it home."

"But when is that?"

"I don't know," Frisk admitted. "I need to find out when Asriel came through the barrier. Surely the ministry would have something on that happened. He was attacked by someone, and someone had to make note of it, right?"

"Seems likely," Ginny agreed. There was quiet as the girls digested this. Luna's soul continued to shine, tinting the room in deep blue light. "If there's anything I..." Ginny began.

"We," Opal corrected.

"If there's anything we can do to help, you will let us know, alright Frisk?"

"Thanks," Frisk smiled. "I still need to find out how Hermione actually travels in time. I don't think she's going to want to share it."

The train continued on its trek through the British countryside. When they finally arrived at Kings Cross, Luna said goodbye to her friends, going to meet her father, standing on the platform. It was then Frisk suddenly realized that she didn't know how she was going to meet her family. They were going to pick her at King's Cross, she knew that. But for the first time since she was dropped off, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone.

"What's that?" Ginny asked.

"You've never seen a mobile phone?" Opal asked. "It's, uh, a muggle communication device. They contact other mobile phones. But they don't work in Hogwarts, there's too much magic. Does it work here?" Frisk shook her head. "Guess you'll have to go up to the station."

"There's my family," Ginny said, nodding towards the crowd of redheads.

"And there's mum," Opal said. "C'mon Frisk," They said together. The three of them looked at each other, then laughed.

A red headed man with a smiling face, and a tall, athletic brown haired woman approached the girls from opposite direction. Ginny introduced Mr. Weasley, and Opal introduced Ms. Oxtoby. They shook hands. Frisk introduced herself, and she could see Mr. Weasley's mouth pop open in excitement, before remembering himself.

"Frisk needs someone to stay with her while she finds her family," Opal told her mother, "Can we help?"

"Of course," Ms. Oxtoby said, smiling.

"That's for the best," Mr. Weasley said, grinning down at his daughter. "The twins have got Percy riled up already." He nodded at Frisk and Ms. Oxtoby, "It was a pleasure to meet you two. Hopefully we'll have a chance to meet again."

They parted ways, Ms. Oxtoby led the girls up through the barrier into the busy King's Cross station. They looked around for a moment, then inconspicuously blended into the crowd.

"Do you have a signal... you clearly do," Opal said. Frisk was already dialing Toriel's number.

"My child!" Toriel said immediately upon answering. "We are outside in the loading area, in Papyrus's car." Frisk relayed this information, and they went out to meet them. It was easy enough to find, Papyrus's red convertible, his pride and joy, stood out among the other vehicles. The rear driver's side window rolled down, and Toriel's smiling face appeared behind it.

Ms. Oxtoby took this in stride. "Ms. Dreemurr," she said, walking up closer, as Frisk piled her school things into the trunk of the car. "Opal has told me all about Frisk, one of her best friends."

"Oh, Opal? Frisk told me a lot of about her, too. You must be Ms. Oxtoby," Toriel said, her muzzle breaking into a smile. "Frisk has been especially thankful for her help during flying lessons." A car behind them expressed dissatisfaction with them by blaring the horn. "We need to move before we are told to move... but would you be willing to give me your phone number?"

Ms. Oxtoby beamed at her.

* * *

The monsters of the underground weren't particularly religious, but the idea of a shared day to be with family and friends, as well as exchange gifts, was something they were enthusiastic about. "And we might as well use the day the humans have," Toriel had said, "It's a good way to fit in."

Dad, on the other hand, wasn't there when Frisk got home. Mom didn't know where he was, and this didn't make her happy. "This is the third... no, fourth time. And it's always around a visit," she complained.

The first few days of the holidays were, naturally, full of bustle. The Dreemurr's current home was just outside of Greater London, and this would have made Christmas shopping hard for monsters, but the house had been hooked up to something known as 'The Floo Network'. This allowed them direct, any time connection to the Leaky Cauldron, and meant they could travel without the Ministry needing to shadow their every step.

With the help of her friends planning, Frisk was able to get her shopping done in a reasonable amount of time. She added a Weird Sisters album, for Napstablook, and floundered on something for Mettaton. In the end, Toriel suggested a gift certificate to Twiffit and Tatting, for clothes for whatever body he tried next.

What she hadn't done was think of what she actually wanted herself. This distressed Papyrus most of all. " **You are my favorite human in the world! Surely I must get you a truly epic gift!"** Mom, on the other hand, apparently had gotten something for Frisk already, and her smile when asked about it was a borderline taunt. She had clearly enjoyed herself.

Almost everyone was there on Christmas Eve. While the ghosts opted to spend the day with each other, Undyne, Alphys, Sans, Papyrus, and Toriel were all there. Toriel, with Frisk as her eager young cooking cadet, handled most of the preparation. Papyrus was allowed to assist, as long as he followed Toriel's instructions exactly. Undyne, however, was kept as far from the kitchen as possible.

Frisk was kept busy, everything from helping with turkey, to measuring sugar, to retrieving eggs from Toriel's new refrigerator, then separating them. The chocolate bar was still there, Frisk noticed, it was a little further to the back now, but it was still there.

They were about to sit down to dinner, and Frisk was about to despair, when there was a knock on the door. She tore from her seat, and raced to the door, believing it could only be one person. She was right.

In the doorway stood Santa Claus. Well, okay, it was someone even better. It was Asgore dressed up in a Santa outfit. "Dad," Frisk said, holding out her arms.

"Asgore Dreemurr," Toriel said, her voice indicating that she wasn't actually happy to see him. "Where have you been?"

Frisk, enveloped in her father's huge arms, felt him freeze up. "Doing something I had to do," he said. His voice wasn't cold, but maybe... fearful. "A place that I don't ever want to go back to." He looked away from Frisk, up towards Toriel. "Torii... sorry, Toriel, trust me when I say I could not be happier to be here."

That something in his voice caused Toriel's expression to soften. "Well, I'm glad you're here, tonight, at least. I was just about to serve dinner."

"I can smell it from here. I can even smell the snails."

* * *

"You can't show us the magic you learned?" Undyne cried out, when Frisk explained the underage secrecy act. "What's the point of learning magic if you can't share it with others?" Frisk agreed with her, but she wasn't in a position to actually do anything about it.

"I'm sure they have reasons for it," Alphys told her, putting her hand on Undyne's. "If human magic goes wrong, who knows what could happen?"

They hung around the dinner table afterward, just talking. The entire group hadn't been gathered like this, just relaxed with nothing else to do, since that day when they stood on the cliff outside where the barrier had just fallen, staring at the first sunset. They talked mostly about Frisk and Hogwarts, or else what this or that monster was doing since moving to the surface.

The next morning, however, was full of excitement. Undyne and Papyrus had brought a tree, and everyone, except possibly Sans, had lent a hand in decorating it. Now boxes, stacked upon boxes, all decorated with colorful paper, swarmed under the green needles.

Papyrus was the first one up, or perhaps he had never gone to bed. Frisk joined him not long after the sun had made an appearance in the sky. Undyne and Alphys came down from the guest room together not to long after. Frisk hoped she and Papyrus hadn't woken them up. Asgore arrived about that time, dressed again as Santa, and Toriel had come downstairs just afterward. "You want breakfast first, right?" she said.

Papyrus gave her the dirtiest look possible on his smiling face. Frisk managed a slightly more upset looking one, but only slightly.

"Well, I didn't really think so," she said, hiding her face with a paw.

Then there was only one person missing. And they waited, and waited. Snoring still came from a couch in the next room.

" **It is ten o'clock! It is time to get the lazybones up,"** Papyrus declared, heading out of the room. Frisk suspected she would not be hearing the snoring much longer.

"Normally, I would tell him to let Sans sleep," Undyne said, grinning her infectious wide smile. "But today, I think I agree with Papyrus." This was punctuated by a crash, and a shout of surprise.

A minute or so later, Sans shuffled into the room, with Papyrus grinning behind him. "i'm up, i'm up, didn't have to shout," Sans said. But he was smiling. Granted, he was always smiling, but he looked happy.

"We should start with him," Frisk said. "Prove that there are some things worth getting up for." She fished around under the tree. She'd wrapped this box herself, so while she at least knew what she was looking for, it was buried in a huge stack of presents. Finally, she found it, a medium sized box, and presented it to Sans, who'd sat down on the floor next to his brother.

"hmmm. what could this be?" Sans asked no one in particular.

" **Only one way to find out, Sans."** Papyrus said, watching his brother eagerly.

Sans ripped open the package, revealing a camera box. "the argus 3000, the sorcerer's shutterbug," he read aloud. He turned the package over. "the perfect camera for the intermediate wizard photographer. records up to five seconds of images, and there's writing here: Because we should always have our memories," he looked up at Frisk, who gave him a hopeful smile. "Frisk," he said. "This is perfect. Thank you."

There were too many gifts for Frisk to remember all of them. Alphys got people electronics. For Frisk and Papyrus, she got refurbished Nintendo DSes, with copies of Professor Layton and the Curious Village, so they could solve puzzles together. For Undyne, not only a complete collection of "Avatar: the Last Airbender", but also an authentic Scottish claymore.

Undyne was more, well, physical. Frisk wound up with a Nerf bow and arrow set. "You need to aim with a wand, right?" Frisk didn't actually see what she got Alphys, and Alphys didn't show anyone else. But the reptilian monster's normally yellow scales went a bright red after seeing it. She and Alphys were both thrilled with the dragon books that Frisk had bought them. There were immediate plans to go find one.

Sans claimed to not know what to get most people, so he got nearly everyone gift certificates. Except for Papyrus, Papyrus got an Italian cookbook. "For the coolest brother in the world."

Papyrus, on the other hand, tried a bit too hard. He got Frisk a homework planner for school, as well as a pair of books called 'Bathroom Readers', collections of stories he thought were fascinating to read while busy. His brother got a book on cooking desserts... and an alarm clock.

Asgore had brought Toriel a beautiful bouquet of flowers, that he had grown himself since coming up from the surface. For Frisk, a Swiss army knife. "They're useful," Asgore told her, "And not everything has to be magical."

Toriel had made Asgore a butterscotch cinnamon pie. It wasn't the only one she had made last night. But this one was for him to take home. Frisk got a math book on algebra. Apparently, Toriel was upset that some of the basic skills weren't being taught at Hogwarts. It wasn't until Frisk promised to at least try to learn some that Toriel pointed out there was one more present in the back of the tree.

It was a long, rectangular box, about Frisk's height, wrapped in dark blue paper, adorned with silver stars. Frisk carefully removed the paper to find the contents. It was her very own broom, a 'Nimbus 2001'. "It may not be the fastest thing in the sky," Toriel told her. "But it's supposed to be remarkably stable." Frisk simply stared. She didn't have anything she could say, so she simply walked over to hug her mother.

After the thank yous and hugs were exchanged, it was picture time. Sans simply had to try out the new camera, and Toriel, Asgore, and Alphys also had older, non-magic cameras they also wanted to take pictures of everyone with.

Breakfast? They'd get to that eventually.

* * *

A few days afterward, Frisk and Sans were walking down the road to the local Burger King. Frisk had tried for days to set this up, and Toriel had finally acquiesced. Frisk was bundled up in a new coat, and Sans had his hood up, covering his skull, and (for a change), long pants. He was also wearing a scarf, so you had to be right up next to him to tell he wasn't human.

If it had been anyone else, it would have felt weird to take someone out to lunch with a gift card they gave you for Christmas. But it had come from Sans, so it somehow felt normal. Frisk was the one who went inside. She was getting a junior cheeseburger, while Sans got a Whopper, extra mustard, extra extra ketchup. Frisk wasn't sure his burger was going stay together, but that was how he wanted it. "it's good grub," said Sans, "but it ain't grillbys."

"Where is he, anyway?" Frisk asked.

"got some space in diagon alley," Sans reported. "setting up beneath some shop or other. he'll have a kitchen, his bar, some tables. even making room for a band. heh. it'll be an underground music scene."

Frisk laughed.

"so," said Sans as they walked back home. "what'd you want talk about?"

That's why she hadn't wanted Papyrus with them, and Frisk cut straight to the point. "Human magic can go back in time. You could use it to power your machine."

"oh. that's it?" Sans asked. "i kinda gave up on that."

"But I haven't," Frisk said, and, as they trudged through the cold English countryside, she detailed her plan to save Asriel.

"hm. solid, as far as it goes, kiddo. but you're missing one detail." Sans's eyelights glinted.

"That's why I wanted your help, Sans," Frisk said. "What did I miss?"

"when's your destination?" Sans asked. "when will he get his soul?"

Frisk blinked. She hadn't thought about that. "If I bring it to him now..." she started.

"then you get flowey with a soul. that's probably safe to bring out of the underground, but is that what ya actually want?"

"No," Frisk said. "But if I bring him his soul when he was Asriel, just before the barrier was broken..."

"do ya remember that from the first time through?" Sans asked. Frisk shook her head. "then you're risking a trip down paradox lane. you don't want to do that, trust me on that one, kiddo."

"Could a monster soul..." began Frisk.

"no chance. a single monster soul, even a boss monster soul, couldn't let asriel regain his normal form. it took all seven souls the first time, right?"

"Would he need to keep them? If he had his own soul back, and was already Asriel, would it be strong it enough to sustain him?"

"dunno. probably. but how are you going to get seven souls like that? you remember what it took for flowey to pull the souls from the monster of the underground." Sans was quiet for a moment, and his eyelights winked out. "You're not thinking of doing anything rash, are you?"

Frisk shuddered, shaking her head violently. "No. Never. Asriel would never forgive me if I hurt anyone to help him. And if he did... I don't think that I..."

"yeah, you're still you, alright," Sans said, and his eyelights reignited. "it'd just take so much power to rip an involuntary soul out of its body..."

An involuntary soul? "But what about a voluntary soul just giving Asriel... a starting push? Would he need to absorb it?"

Sans reached into the food bag to retrieve some french fries, and chewed them, considering it. "That might actually work, kiddo. You'd still need seven... but seven voluntary human souls, then capping it with his own? Yeah, I think you might be onto something. But Frisk, there's one other thing you've missed."

"What's that?"

"What are you going to do with the other soul at that point in time?" Sans asked.

Frisk looked at Sans in confusion. "What other soul?"

"You remember. When Asriel died the first time, he had another soul inside of him. That's how he got across the barrier."

Frisk gasped in sudden realization. There was another soul, and she did know who it belonged to. A thought blazed into her mind.

 _Chara isn't worth it._


	12. Learning about the Lost

_"_ How well did you know her?" Frisk asked.

"who, me?" Sans asked. "never met her. but i saw the tapes, like you did, right?" Sans asked. He turned to Frisk suddenly, "Wait, Frisk? Are you crying?"

Frisk wiped her face, "I'm okay... I was just thinking. I mean, Chara's dead. How can we help that?"

Sans shrugged. "well, you have her body, and you have her soul, right?" he waggled his bony fingers in the approximation of a magical gesture. "i thought maybe you could add a little human magic and, uh, presto?"

"I don't know," Frisk admitted. She looked down at her burger. "I want to, but..."

"you want to focus on asriel," Sans tried to finish for her.

That wasn't quite right, but it wasn't wrong, either. How could she explain this to Sans? "I want to save her," Frisk repeated. "But I don't know if I can." They walked in a near silence, Frisk's boots clacking against the sidewalk. "Where's Flowey?" Frisk asked suddenly. She had just gotten the sudden picture of the golden flower in the dark, in the underground, alone.

"he's still in that small room, under the hole you fell in," Sans reported, munching on another fry. "i go down to talk to him sometimes. he just stares up at the hole, remembering everything."

Frisk felt suddenly guilty. "We should go down there and see him."

"nah," Sans said, shaking his head. "he still remembers what it was like to be asriel, but that memory gets a bit further every day. ah, and toriel would kill me herself if i took you that far from home."

"Oh," Frisk looked crestfallen, "If I write a letter, and get him a gift, could you take them to him for me?"

Sans looked happy.

* * *

That evening was one of the few quiet one Frisk had experienced during winter break. Mom hadn't cooked, they were having leftovers. Papyrus and Sans were out somewhere else, and Dad was... giving Toriel some space at the moment.

Frisk knew what she wanted to ask, but finding the proper opening was tough. It was after the dishes were put away that she finally managed to ask, "Mom? What was Asriel like?"

At the name of her lost son, Toriel looked down at her paws. After a few seconds, she looked up at Frisk with those large green eyes expressing nothing but sorrow. "He was the sweetest child. I remember when he came home with Chara. He didn't even know what a human was, he just knew she was hurt, and that she needed help."

Toriel stopped for a second, and her sorrow was mixed with confusion. "Have... have you asked me this before?" The confusion deepened. "No, you couldn't have. How could you have known about Asriel before you even left the ruins?"

Frisk shifted uncomfortably.

"But Asirel," she said, letting the matter drop. "He cared so much about everyone. I wish you had been able to meet him. You would have gotten along so well..." Toriel hadn't started crying yet, but she seemed about to, and Frisk hadn't even gotten to the question she actually wanted to ask. She wasn't sure she should. But her face must have shown uncertainty because Toriel continued. "Go ahead, I can see what you want to ask, my child," Toriel said, trying to smile.

"What was Chara like?" Frisk asked.

"Chara was such a smart child," Toriel said, and now the tears were flowing, dripping down onto her muzzle. "She seemed so happy to be down with us. She wanted to learn everything about the underground. She wanted to see it all. She and Asriel would go exploring everywhere. They were inseparable, and she was so eager to learn." The memory was allowing Toriel to smile through the still falling tears.

"Did they have other friends?" Frisk asked.

"They did, but not many. It is hard to be the friend of the king's son," Toriel told her, "Even when that king was Asgore, and the son was Asriel, people got scared away. In some ways, having Chara come into his life was one of the best things that could have happened to him."

"When Chara got sick," Toriel tried to continue, but her words failed her. She buried her head in her paws and simply sobbed. Frisk stood from her seat, moving to embrace the monster as best she could. Toriel returned the hug, leaning into Frisk's shoulder. "I am sorry, my child. I love you... but I still miss them. I still miss them both so much."

"I'm sorry for making you remember..." Frisk began, but Toriel interrupted her.

"Don't apologize. I do not want to forget. I never want to forget. They will always be part of me. I can say goodbye... but I can't let go of the memories."

"I don't think you should," Frisk said, "but... thank you for sharing them with me."

Toriel sat back up in her chair, wiping her eyes with a napkin. "Was there anything else you wanted to ask, my child?"

There was, but Frisk didn't want to put her mother through anything else tonight. "That's all," she said, allowing Toriel to put her furry paw on Frisk's hand. "Would you like to do something tonight?"

"I... I never really got a chance to be their teacher," Toriel said. "Would you mind if we opened that math book I bought for you, and we looked over it together? I know it's your winter vacation, and I know that they don't teach math at Hogwarts but... or I could read to you."

"I'll go get the math book," Frisk said, and while she thought the math might be a bit advanced from where she left off from traditional British schooling, if it made Mom happy tonight, then Frisk would be happy.

* * *

The next day, Toriel had to go do some things with some of the monsters of the underground at the Ministry of Magic, so she would be spending the day with Dad instead. To her surprise, it wasn't the King who she saw first, but Papyrus, coming out of the makeshift greenhouse Dad had built.

" **Frisk!** " he called, waving excitedly. " **How are you today, little human?"**

Frisk grinned and walked over to Papyrus. "I didn't know you were learning to garden, Papyrus."

" **Well. While I was the last new member of the Royal Guard, right before it disbanded, King Asgore offered me the opportunity to be the first member of the Royal Gardeners! So I am here.** "

"That's great, Papyrus," Frisk said. "Where is Dad?"

 **"King Asgore is out getting food for your repast this evening,"** the skeleton told her.

"Oh. Well, in that case, would you like help?"

" **I would be most honored to accept your assistance, friend Frisk,** " Papyrus declared. **"Come on in!** "

The greenhouse wasn't quite as large as the ones that Professor Sprout ran at Hogwarts, but it was just as well organized. Also unlike Hogwarts, the majority of the plants were nonmagical. He had daffodils, poppies, and tulips, to go along with the golden flowers and echo flowers. "Uh, Papyrus, is someone snoring?" Frisk asked.

" **It is my watchbook!"** Papyrus said happily, and he led Frisk to a corner of the greenhouse, where the monster book of monsters he'd been given lay with its eyes closed in a sunbeam. " **It keeps the greenhouse clear of some of the larger pests. But perhaps we should leave it alone. It doesn't like being woken up suddenly."**

This sounded just fine to Frisk. Instead, she retrieved a watering can, and listened happily to Papyrus tell her all about the plants he was taking care of for Asgore, the bugs he had to watch out for, and how Sans was too lazy to help him with any of it.

After about fifteen minutes, she heard the sound of flapping in the corner. The book had woken up, and Papyrus was taking time out from taking care of the plants to hold it his hands, gently stroking the book's spine like it was some sort of pet. Which, she supposed, it was.

"You know," Frisk began.

" **Not usually! But I am sure you will tell me."**

"How do you help someone who doesn't want to be helped, even if he needs to be?" Frisk asked. Papyrus's cocked head and silence suggested he didn't understand the question. So Frisk explained about Mr. Filch, how he continued to work in a place that it seemed he couldn't stand.

" **Obviously! He is in need of spaghetti! We could make him some!"**

"I tried that, more or less," Frisk said, sighing. "It'd be hard to bring spaghetti to Hogwarts, and Mom had just given me some cookies, and we had bought cat treats, remember? He just accused me of trying to poison his cat, and to bribe him."

" **Why?"**

"...that's the question. He seems so alone. I want to do to something to help him, but I don't know what." Frisk stared at the large pots of bridge seeds, wondering what Dad was planning to use them for.

Papyrus was silent for an uncharacteristically long time. " **I am sorry, Frisk. I do not know. While I am sure that if you found yourself in a situation where you could help, you would, that does not answer your question. You wish to proactively help people,** " and he gave Frisk a warm smile, " **And I wish to help you! But I cannot think of how, either**."

"So you think I should try, though?" Frisk asked.

" **Do you think he can be helped?** " Papyrus asked. Frisk nodded. " **Then I think you will be unhappy if you do not continue to try. To know someone is always there for you, even if you don't think you need it, that is what friendship is, right?** "

"I think so, thanks Papyrus."

" **I am glad to have you as my friend."**

Frisk blushed. "Thank you, Papyrus."

After a few more minutes, they were done. " **Let us go inside. Alphys suggested her gift was full of puzzles, perhaps worthy conundrums for such master puzzle solvers as you and I. We should find out!"** Papyrus exclaimed. Frisk couldn't help but grin, and follow along.

When Asgore finally returned, he found Frisk and Papyrus sitting together on his couch, discussing the puzzles they'd found so far in the game. But when Asgore offered to let Papyrus stay for dinner, he declined.

" **I appreciate the very kind offer, King Dreemurr! But I feel I should go home and make sure my brother awoke and took care of his chores. But if you need the assistance of a hard working skeleton..."**

"I know how to reach him. Thank you, Papyrus," Asgore said with a regal bow. Papyrus headed out, with a promise not to get too far in their shared gaming experience. Asgore started to put away groceries, ending with a dubious look at a box of frozen pizza. He extracted the pizza, put it in the oven, and lit it with fire magic. Finally, he sat down at the table with a heavy thump.

Frisk moved to join him, smiling up at the monster. "How goes the resettlement on the surface?" she asked.

"It goes. Some monsters, like Gryftrot, have stayed below. He says he likes the quiet. I never knew there was this whole culture of Wizards that was also in hiding." he sighed. "I didn't think coming to the surface would be this complicated. Is magic so scary that they need to hide it away?"

"I don't know," Frisk said. "I keep thinking how many lives they could save if magic was available to everyone. Or if scientists and wizards worked together, how much they could achieve. But they hide."

"And we hide with them," Asgore agreed. "It's easier for those who are somewhat human shaped, but that's not all of us. Trying to settle some of those have been a nightmare. But how have you been, Frisk? When you fell down that hole, did you have any idea you were going to come up with monsters, and then develop magic of your own?"

"Never," Frisk said, smiling.

"I didn't think so. After we eat, is there anything you would like to do tonight? Play a game or something? The wizards at the ministry have been teaching me a human game called 'Chess'. Have you ever played it?"

Frisk had heard of it, but she'd never played it. Asgore got out a chess set, and was describing how the pieces moved when his timer went off. The pizza was... slightly overcooked, but not actually burnt. "I''m sorry. I'm just not a very good cook."

"It's alright, Dad. It tastes fine," and that was more or less true. After dinner had been cleaned up, they returned to the chess set. Once they'd actually started a game, conversation drifted to other things, though he still refused to say where he'd been on Christmas Eve. "Dad," Frisk said, once the game was over and they were putting the pieces away, "what was Asriel like?"

Asgore tried to look stoic, but Frisk could tell the question... or at least the thoughts the question had risen, stung. "I would give my own life to see him again," Asgore said, like it was that simple. "He was the best son anyone could ask for. He was returned to the Earth far too quickly."

"and what was Chara like?"

Asgore visibly flinched and shivered. "Chara... Chara was a good child," Asgore said, finally. "She was so smart, such a friend to Asriel." He grew silent, and it was clear he was trying not to cry. He probably thought that it wouldn't be very regal if he cried.

"You loved her, didn't you?" Frisk prompted. Asgore only nodded, and didn't say anything. After a few moments, Frisk tried again, "Did Chara ever talk about humans? About her parents?"

Asgore got a faraway look in his eyes for a moment, and he shivered again. "No," he said finally. "She never did. All she said was that she was glad she was with us. Now I understand why."

"Why?" Frisk pressed. This wasn't making any sense to her.

"When you're older," Asgore said, then added, "when I've had time to process it myself." He grew quiet again, and a couple of tears were growing heavier, threatening to finally drop from his eyes before he wiped them away. "I think, now anyway, that it was my fault she got sick. I put so much pressure on her. I thought she was going to be the future of humans and monsters, like you turned out to be. And she never wanted that. I'm not sure I blame her."

"What does that mean, Dad?"

"It means that everyone in the underground is lucky you turned out the way you did," Asgore said. "And that's all I can say about it tonight. Frisk, I'm sorry. I think I've already said too much." A few moments of uncomfortable silence followed. "Look, maybe you can explain quidditch to me. It's all some of the ministry wizards talk about."

"I'll do my best," Frisk said, still wondering what Dad could have actually meant.

* * *

The days of winter break were beginning to run short, and Frisk crammed in as much time with her various underground friends as she could before school started again. Mettaton, Napstablook, and for some unknown reason, Burgerpants, were working on some sort of radio drama series for Wizarding Radio. It was some sort of horror story, involving a series of ghosts exposing themselves to muggles, and the wizards who had to contain them. It was a plot that Frisk wasn't sure was going to go over well, but they were enjoying themselves. The audio track (SpookViews), courtesy of Naps, was probably the best part of it.

Another day was spent with Alphys and Undyne. Undyne had discovered a human show called "Ninja Warrior UK" over the term, and was showing off the obstacles that Alphys had built, and Undyne trying to do them herself. Frisk was not surprised to see Undyne had gotten pretty good at them. Frisk's attempts, done at Undyne's assistance, didn't go so well. Then it was time for training with spears, which went better, somewhat. At least she wasn't made to try to lift Undyne's new two handed sword. Alphys, on the other hand, was still trying to figure out how to get them to Romania. Frisk departed with a promise to get them in touch with Ginny's brother.

All too soon, though, it was time to repack her trunk, and be dropped off at King's Cross station.

She managed to get a private box with her friends again, and there was happy discussion of the break. There were gifts, mostly food stuffs, to be shared. Luna provided a confection she called 'Sunshine Bars' (Lemon bars topped with powdered sugar). Both Opal and Frisk had cookies, Frisk had her now traditional cinnamon with butterscotch chips, while Opal provided the Chocolate Chip variant. Ginny had homemade fudge to pass around. All these things meant that there was no need for the lunch trolley when it came by.

"So how did it go, Frisk?" Ginny asked. "Do you have a plan to save Asriel?

Frisk detailed what Sans had told her, and mentally crossed her fingers. "You said you would be willing to help, if you could. You can back out if you want, I won't hold it against you."

"But what do you need?" Opal asked.

"I need people willing to risk their soul, voluntarily, to give Asriel an anchor for his own," Frisk said. They looked astonished, and initially, worried. She was expecting, maybe one of them to say yes.

The sight of all three willing and nodding faces filled Frisk with determination.

[ _A/N_ : _There's a couple of things that need to be mentioned. One, if you've not read CourierNew's_ perfect _Undertale Pacifist extension, "One By One" go do that now. Please. I've got nothing on that author. There's one or two things from my fiction that probably (will) have their origins there, because I simply cannot think of things differently. It's not on FF.N, but searching for that title and Undertale will bring it up. Two: I know how this story ends. I know it is the right ending because I had an emotional reaction to telling it to myself. Don't worry about people 'swaying' me. Won't happen. (Not saying I can't be, well, reminded of things, though!) I can only hope other people also have emotional reactions. Third: As always, thanks for reading. Over 500 favorites (as of 6/17/18's edit)? That's a record for me. On to 600? :)]_


	13. Tears in the Butterbeer

"You're sure?" Frisk almost didn't believe it. But her friends looked completely serious.

"I am," Ginny said. "Harry came to find me last year because someone, the sister of his best friend, granted, needed help. Now my friend's brother needs me? I don't think I could forgive myself if I didn't at least try."

"But I'm asking you to risk your soul..." Frisk said, meekly.

"It sounds like you're trying to convince us to say no," Luna said, cocking her head slightly.

Frisk looked down at her feet. "That's not it, I want your help, I just want to be sure that, you know, I mean, you're never even met him..."

"Look Frisk," Opal said, "Luna's right. I understand the risks, and I've had the chance to get to know you. You like helping others, so let me ask. Does he deserve our help?"

"Yes," Frisk said emphatically. She'd seen him destroy the barrier so many times. Each time, it was to give hope to the other monsters of the underground, letting go of any hope he had for himself. It was so beautiful, and so horrible. "Yes," she repeated.

"Then we're helping," Ginny told her. Her tone was final.

"Thank you," Frisk said to them, "Thank you all so much."

"But that's only four," Luna said. "You need three more, right? Where will you find them?" she asked.

"I don't know," Frisk said. "I can't ask a teacher, or it might get back to Mom."

"I could ask my brother," Ginny said, thoughtfully. "But I don't know if he'd say yes. I don't know if he'd tell mum, either. If Mum hears about this, well, I don't think she'd like it."

Frisk looked to Luna and Opal, but neither offered any ideas. "Go ahead and ask," said Frisk. "Because I don't think we have any other choices."

The train rolled on into the Scottish Highlands, back to the castle that served as their school.

* * *

Frisk was going to ask Hermione about time travel the moment she arrived in the common room. But this had a problem. Hermione wasn't in the common room. She hadn't been on the train either, but Ginny had said she and Ron had stayed at Hogwarts over the break, to keep Harry Potter company. So where was she? Frisk tried to ask Harry this question, but his only reply was an angry glare. An inquiry into what happened only had deepened the glare, so that didn't help.

Frisk wasn't worried, she'd turn up, right? But classes restarted the next day. This pretty much picked up where it had left off for Frisk. She still had trouble focusing in History of Magic, transfiguration was still hard to master, and if she thought Snape was going to forgive her as a Christmas present, she was disappointed. Monday had turned into a draining day to come back to school on.

When she got back to the common room, Hermione was there. Frisk took a second to unload her books at a table near the fire, before taking a deep breath and walking toward the older student. As she got close, Hermione looked up from her parchment and looked at her with a focused stare. Frisk was determined, though. "Hermione, I..." she began.

"What?" Hermione snapped, loudly.

Everyone was staring at her, and Frisk was forced to reconsider. If Hermione did have a time travel device, she had managed to keep it quiet this far into the year. She probably wouldn't have any helpful words for Frisk if her secret was announced to the whole house.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, no less sharply.

"I'll, I'll ask another time," Frisk said, backing off, "When you're in a better mood." The older girl's glare followed her all the way back to the fireplace.

Frisk saw the same glare the next night, so she didn't even try to approach. Ron and Harry were also glowering in her general direction. It was until Wednesday, at lunch, that she got an answer on why any of this was happening from Ginny. "Harry got a firebolt for Christmas."

"What's a firebolt?" Frisk asked, halfway through a sandwich. Ginny stared at her with a dumbfounded expression.

"It's the best, fastest, newest broom on the market," Ginny said breathlessly, and launched into specifics and reviews before Frisk could slow her down. "There was one at Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley, it looked incredible." Frisk could almost see stars in her friend's eyes, "but it's wicked expensive."

"I get it," Frisk said, "It's like an Aston Martin."

This time it was Ginny's turn to look at Frisk blankly. "What's an Aston Martin?"

"Oh, I'm glad Papyrus isn't here to hear you say that," Frisk said, "He'd go on for at least half an hour. It's a very fast, very expensive, car. Anyway, why is Hermione upset that Harry got a firebolt? Is she envious?"

"Because," Ginny said, "Nobody knows who sent it. So Hermione thought it might have been sent as a trap by Sirius Black, and told McGonagall. And our head of house impounded it."

Frisk winced.

"It's even worse. Harry lost his previous broom when the dementors attacked him during the quidditch game, when he fell. So he doesn't have a fallback for his next match. So all three of them are unhappy, and neither Ron or Harry is talking to Hermione, and you saw how she's taking it," Ginny said, glancing up the table at the older Gryffindors.

"Does Hermione have any other friends?" Frisk asked. Hermione was eating with her head down, studying yet another book. She might have been sitting in the middle of other third year students, but she looked isolated.

Ginny followed Frisk's gaze up the table. "I don't really know. I haven't paid attention. But I can't really think of any, not even the girls in her year." Ginny didn't need any magic to tell what Frisk was thinking: that the situation was pretty awful, "Maybe you're right, Frisk," Ginny said. "But how can we help?"

Frisk sighed. "I don't know, and I need to figure that out. Maybe McGonagall will finish with the broom, and they'll all feel better."

With her initial attempts to talk to Hermione failing, Frisk's friends tried to distract her with the Ravenclaw versus Slytherin quidditch match, and although it went vaguely better than the first match (she could actually see the game), she still couldn't really get her head around it. It felt like the seekers were playing a separate game than the rest of them.

"It's not your fault," she told Opal and Ginny, who had been trying to explain it to her. "I have this memory of Mr. Macintosh trying to explain American Football to me. I didn't get that either." They were trudging through the bitter Scottish cold, hoods up to protect against the wind.

"Well," Ginny said, "I don't know how a muggle sport could compare to quidditch..."

"Sports are sports," Opal said. "That's how mum and dad met. They were watching football at a local pub..." she trailed off, realizing Ginny was giving her a shocked look. "Yeah. Dad's a muggle. He knows about magic, though, Mum said he handled it pretty well."

"What does he do?" Ginny asked.

"He's a plumber," Opal told her. "He's actually worked with your dad before, when people pull pranks on their muggle neighbors and do things to their toilets and pipes. Since Dad married a witch, the Statute of Secrecy doesn't apply to him, and they can go to him for advice."

"Is that unusual?" asked Frisk. "Someone without magic marrying someone who has it?"

"It's kind of unusual," Ginny said, "It generally doesn't go over well, learning that, all of a sudden, magic exists, and your wife or husband can use it. Probably equally strange to find out your child can learn magic. Dad says the ministry has a department that takes care of that, so they must have visited Hermione's parents."

* * *

Frisk tried several times over the next few weeks, as January turned into February, to catch Hermione in a non-existent good mood. And if Ginny was having any better luck with Ron, Frisk wasn't hearing about it, that, either. If anything, their moods were getting worse over time, as Gryffindor was due to play Ravenclaw themselves in just a few weeks.

In fact, it was the week before the match that Frisk was sitting in the common room, working on an essay for Professor Flitwick, when she happened to look up and spotted Professor McGonagall standing just inside the stairwell, looking about the common room. They made eye contact for a moment, and the Professor mouthed the words, "Harry Potter?" at her.

Frisk, surprised, looked about. While she could see Harry's usual constant companion Ron Weasley, she couldn't see Harry himself. She looked back at the professor and silently shook her head 'No'. Then Frisk's heart leaped as she realized the professor was holding a broom, as she turned in place, and headed back down toward the portrait hole. Ron must have seen her too, because he left whatever he was doing to race after her.

A few minutes later, Harry Potter himself climbed in, acting like some kind of conquering hero with the firebolt as his trophy. Behind him, equally jubilant, was Ronald. Behind them both, looking completely miserable, was Neville. Almost the entire common room rushed over to see the treasure.

While even Frisk wanted to see what was so special about a broom, she wanted to see what had terrified Neville. But he evaded Frisk in the confusion, disappearing into the boys dormitory. Answers from among the crowd were not forthcoming, they were too interested about the broom. A broom that, to Frisk's untrained eye, looked pretty much like other riding broom.

After the excitement had worn down, and Ron had gone upstairs to put the broom away, Frisk returned to her seat, happily noting that Harry was sitting down next to Hermione, and talking, quietly. Maybe in a few days, she could try to get Hermione to open up about...

Frisk heard a scream mixed of anger and terror come down from the Boys dormitory, and Ron raced back into view, dragging a bed sheet down with him. " **Scabbers! Look! Scabbers**!"

It took Frisk a moment to remember what Scabbers was, Ron's pet rat. But what was... Frisk flashed back to an orange shape chasing a rat under a bookcase. " **Blood! He's gone! and you know what was on the floor?** "

Frisk couldn't see it, but she knew, absolutely what it had to be. And while Frisk knew her chance to talk to Hermione about time travel had slipped away again, all she could think about was how horrified and pale the older girl had looked after Ron stomped away again.

* * *

Frisk's only view of Hermione for the rest of the week was the same double vision before Defense against the Dark Arts that started the wheels turning. She only appeared in the common room to proceed straight to the dormitory, each time giving a look that inspired people to stay out of her way.

A loud procession of noise met Frisk after she woke up on Saturday. After dressing and cleaning up, she headed down to the common room, where it looked like every single boy in Gryffindor had turned out to give the Gryffindor Quidditch team an escort down to breakfast in the great hall.

Not wanting to be part of that, she made a big deal of studying the notice board. She waited around a bit to see if Hermione, or Ginny, would turn up, but when neither did, she headed down to find food herself.

As it turned out, Ginny was already down there, trying to get another look at Harry's new broom. Frisk had already resigned herself to going to the match. She really didn't care for the game itself, but her friends were going, and she was mostly caught up on her homework. So, together with Luna and Opal, they made their way down to the grounds.

The game went about as Frisk expected it. The best part was the play between Professor McGonagall and Lee Jordan. Lee was supposed to be commentating instead of giving blow by blow descriptions of Harry's firebolt. McGonagall's protests, over the loudspeaker, was actually pretty entertaining.

That is, until the dementors showed up. Or rather, the black cloaks showed up. Ginny and Opal both poked Frisk in surprise. But Luna wasn't worried. "What are those?" she asked. "They're not dementors, they're walking on the ground."

"You're right," agreed Frisk, she'd gotten a pretty good look at the Dementors when she'd gone to help Harry when he'd fallen from his broom. She was pretty sure they didn't have feet. These things seemed to.

What even more surprising was the large... something that Gryffindor's seeker conjured from from his wand, twenty feet in the air, that barreled into the three cloaks on the ground, causing them to scatter on the ground like pins met by a bowling ball. Ginny, not paying attention to that all, chose that moment to throw her arms in the air, "Harry caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins!"

Luna and Opal were both applauded politely, as the Gryffindor faithful barreled down the stands to congratulate the team. Frisk was sitting bemused at the excitement over a single game, when Opal tapped her on the shoulder, pointing at the corner of the stands.

Hermione was there, she was holding something in her hands, and she appeared to be staring at the pile of happy Gryffindors. But instead of joining them, she quickly headed down the stairs at the far end of the stands, disappearing from sight.

Then Luna poked her in the other side, pointing at the mess of black cloaks which appeared to be full of people, now struggling against the cloaks entrapping them at McGonagall's feet. "Is that the Slytherin quidditch team?" she asked. "What are they doing there?"

"Trying to sabotage Harry," Frisk said, part of her brain still thinking about Hermione. "They were trying to bring up memories of his fall, I think." Frisk watched them for a bit. "Let's head back up."

"Exploding snap?" offered Opal after they'd had lunch. Frisk played, and they talked, but her mind wasn't in it. She asked Opal and Luna if they'd thought up anyone else who might be able to come underground and help Asriel, but while Opal had thought of a few people, she hadn't really been able to ask them, and Luna had asked people, but nobody had really taken her seriously.

After a few hours, they split up to head back to their common rooms. Frisk was surprised to find there was a celebration still going on. Someone (probably Ginny) handed her an open bottle of foamy, sweet smelling liquid.

But her attention was drawn to the corner, where Hermione had buried herself in a large book. Frisk was about to go to her, to try to talk to her about, well, anything other than time travel, but Harry had gotten to her first. "...and I think you did really well, but I need to read this by Monday." Hermione's voice was shrill and high pitched, and Frisk couldn't help noticing how red her cheeks looked.

"Come on, Hermione, come and have some food," Harry said, he glanced over his shoulder.

"If Scabbers," Frisk heard Ron say from behind her, and she closed her eyes tightly, she didn't want to see what happened next. "hadn't just been **eaten**..."

She could hear Hermione, large book and all, sobbing and fleeing toward the girls' dormitory before Ron had even finished the sentence. Frisk's world was black from clenched shut eyes, and she could feel her soul trembling in pain. She opened her eyes, turning towards Ron. "Was that necessary?" she asked. Her quiet voice didn't carry further than him.

For a second, she thought Ron was going to snap at her. He didn't, but it was a near thing. "It's been days now," he told her, and there were icicles hanging off his words. "Do you think I got the smallest apology from her? 'I'm sorry my cat ate the pet you've had for years?' No. She can't ever admit she **might** be wrong, and it got Scabbers killed." Beneath the ice, Frisk could feel the pain in his voice, too. While he certainly was missing his rat, she could tell he was missing his friend, too.

"Ron," Harry said, putting has hand on his friend's shoulder, and they turned away from Frisk.

She stepped backward from the two, right into Ginny. "Oh, sorry, Frisk," apologized Ginny. "Are you alright? You look like you're hurt."

Frisk took a swallow from the bottle she'd been holding this whole time. It was warm and sweet, and it soothed the ache she was feeling, at least somewhat. "I'm okay, but that was painful to hear. I don't think either of them fully understands how much they hurt the other."

"My brother had had that rat for nearly a decade. It went with him everywhere," Ginny said, nodding. "It was even in our family photos with him. He's taking it hard. I can tell."

They talked for a while before going to bed. But it was hard to sleep with the party sounds going on downstairs, and even when that wrapped with a professor mandated order, Frisk didn't sleep long before shouting woke her back up. She tried to roll over, and go back to sleep at first, but when the shouting continued, she slowly made her way back to the common room, dressed in her night shirt emblazoned with the delta rune.

"Ginny?" Frisk asked through sleepy, half lidded eyes, "What's going on?"

"Ron reckons Sirius Black was standing over him with a knife," Ginny said, and while that sounded ridiculous, Ginny seemed to be completely sincere.

"Which person," McGonagall asked, and her voice was barely restraining her rage, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

Neville Longbottom, with a very Frisk-like squeak, raised his hand in the air.

* * *

It was hard not to notice the additional security in Hogwarts. Now, when Frisk overheard someone complaining about "Troll like behavior", she had actual trolls to compare it too. There was the appearance of wooden boards over anything that possibly might be an entrance to the castle, and Flitwick appeared to be having a conversation with the front doors on how to recognize Sirius Black.

But her daily life, at least the first few days, was normal. It was during such a normal mail delivery during Tuesday's breakfast that whispers went up and down the Gryffindor table. Frisk looked up towards the source of the whispers, and saw that Neville had received a large red envelope.

"Oh no," Ginny, who was sitting next to her, said. "That **is** a howler."

"What's a..." Frisk began, but her question was soon answered, as Neville got up, and broke at a dead run toward the nearest exit of the great hall. She could hear great peals of laughter from the Slytherin table, punctuated with snickers and giggles from the other three groups of students. It was echoed with a woman's voice shrieking about how much of a disgrace Neville was.

Frisk had heard enough, abandoning her cereal, she ran in the direction of the magically enhanced shrieks. She found Neville staring, almost zen-like, at the howler, because it was continuing about how he wasn't worthy of the Longbottom name, what his parents would have thought, and more besides. When it finished, he looked around, and locked eyes with Frisk. "Hey, Neville," she said.

"Hello, Frisk," he said. His voice was very nearly calm, and something about that tone bothered her, it sounded familiar, and she couldn't place why. "You alright?"

"I'm okay," Frisk said, and she sat on the floor next to him. "What about you, are you holding up?"

"Fine. I'm fine." They sat there for several minutes, as the sounds of breakfast ended. A bell rang, a warning that classes would be starting in five minutes. The rest of the other third year Gryffindors passed in front of them, heading out into the cold air. A few of them glanced at Neville in sympathy, or Frisk questioningly, but none of them said anything to either of them.

"Frisk, you're going to be late for class," Neville told her, in that same not quite calm tone. "Go on, go." But a thought had flared in her mind.

 _Don't leave him_.

And then she realized where she'd heard that tone before. On one of the cycles, down in the true labs, she'd gotten Alphys to describe when she'd met Undyne the first time, she'd heard it there. And each, and every, time she tried to spare Dad's life before Flowey executed him. Dad had talked to her with that exact same inflection.

They all had something in common.

"I'm not worried about class," Frisk told Neville. "I'm worried about you, and you are more important than any class."


	14. Someone to Listen

Neville stared down at the smoldering remains of the red envelope. He spoke so softly that Frisk could barely hear him. "I wish the Death Eaters had gotten me too. Then I'd be with them."

Frisk had no idea who Death Eaters were, but a name like that certainly didn't sound friendly. She looked briefly at Neville before following his gaze back to the envelope. "Then you'd be with who?" she asked. That one she had a pretty good guess on, and she didn't think she'd like the answer.

"My Parents," it sounded like such a simple answer, but it made Frisk shiver. Neville had been one of the two people who had shared her own lack of biological family. "I nearly got Ron killed. I'm a failure." His voice still had that same pseudo-calm tone that was chilling to Frisk.

"Why do you think that, Neville?" Frisk asked. The bell was about to ring, but neither one of them was ready to move.

"Because everyone else does," he said. "Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape... even Professor Flitwick, though he's too nice to say so. And... and..." and Frisk could sense the dam beginning to break. "My grandmother does. You heard her."

Frisk had heard her. She'd think about that later. It was Neville who was right here. "You live with her, right?" Frisk asked. The bell rang, meaning they were officially late to class, but Neville just nodded. "Do you think she cares for you?" Frisk asked.

At that, Neville finally did start to cry. "I don't know. All she says is how much I disappoint her," he said, trying unsuccessfully to hold back the tears. "I don't think she does. I wish I was with them. I wish I was with them."

Frisk felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach, Frisk had felt feelings like that. Before her trip through the underground, that kind of thought had driven her to climb Mt. Ebott, the one that it was said, nobody came back from. It had been different for her, she had gone from a foster house that considered her some sort of perfunctory duty. Neville came from a home. "You don't really think that's true, do you?" she asked. "Because it's clear you care for her."

"I don't know," admitted Neville, beginning to dry his eyes. His eyes darted around, looking to see if anyone caught him in tears, before going back to the howler. "I just don't know."

"Is there anyone else who you care about?" Frisk prodded, "I'm sure there's someone that you want to think well of you."

"Professor Sprout," Neville said. "She seems to think I do alright in Herbology."

"And do you?"

"I guess," Neville mumbled.

She'd seen other members of Neville's year heading outdoors. It led to an idea that Frisk was willing to gamble on. "Is that the class that's going on now? How do you think the Professor would feel if you weren't there?"

"She'd be worried," Neville said, finally looking up from the howler, and met Frisk's eyes again.

Frisk stood, holding out her hand to the older boy. "Do you think she's worried now?"

Neville wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his robes. "May... yes." He took Frisk's hand, pulling himself into a standing position.

"Then maybe we should go to class. I'll walk with you," Frisk offered. She thought Neville was about to object, after all, she couldn't have herbology at that moment. But he didn't, and walking in silence, they headed down to the Greenhouses together, trudging through freshly fallen snow.

When they arrived at greenhouse number three, they found Professor Sprout moving around students, watching them care for some sort of magical plant that Frisk didn't recognize. When she spotted the errant students, she made her way quickly over to them. "You should get to work, Neville, you know what we're doing," she said, and Neville scurried away to join his classmates. "Why are you here, Frisk?" she asked, curiously.

"I was worried Neville might hurt himself," Frisk said quietly. Professor Sprout looked at Neville in alarm before turning back to Frisk. After confirming the professor knew about the lost passwords and punishment, she described what they talked about in the entrance hall. "Please, make sure he's okay?" Frisk asked.

"I will," the teacher promised Frisk. "How did you not end up in Hufflepuff?" She mused as she rifled through her pockets for a quill and a small piece of parchment. Frisk shrugged, not wanting to say it was due to bad experiences with a flower, at least not in the middle of her greenhouse. "Where are you supposed to be right now?"

"Charms," Frisk supplied. Frisk took the offered note when it was given, but asked, "Professor... do you know what happened to Neville's parents?"

Professor Sprout's face looked sad, and she glanced over at Neville again. "I do, but that is for Neville to discuss, not for me. I am sure you understand." Frisk did, and said as much. She hurried back up and through the castle, and luckily, she ran into neither Ms. Norris nor Filch on her trek. Several minutes later, Frisk walked into Professor Flitwick's class. He stopped for a moment when she entered, but took the note, read it quickly, and smiled at Frisk, who hurried into her seat.

She was unable to really focus on charms, though. Her mind kept wandering back to Neville, because the more she thought about it, the more upset she got at Neville's grandmother. Family was supposed to be supportive of each other. Neville had already punished himself. He'd already been punished by McGonagall, and she had to have known that, why pile on like that? By the time the bell rang for second period, Frisk was upset.

When she arrived back in the great hall for lunch, Frisk looked for Neville, but he wasn't there. Ginny was, and she headed that way instead.

"What's got into you, Frisk?" Ginny asked as Frisk sat down grumpily at the Gryffindor table. Frisk didn't answer at first, she was trying to decide if she was hungry or not. Eventually, she gave up, took a sandwich, and poured herself some pumpkin juice. "You look like you're ready to burst."

"Neville," Frisk said. Then she told Ginny everything that had happened that morning. While Ginny looked skeptical at first, as Frisk continued, realization must have come to her. "I know nobody likes to be screamed at," Frisk finished. "But I hadn't been expecting that."

"Wow," Ginny said. "I'm glad you were there," then she looked up. "Neville just came in, Professor Hagrid is with him," she informed Frisk. Then, after about a minute, "Hey, Neville. You alright?"

"Are you feeling better?" Frisk asked, as Neville sat down next to her.

"I am," Neville said. He picked up a sandwich from the center tray, placing it on a plate in front of him. He turned to Frisk. "Thank you."

"Anyone could have come," she said, fidgeting with her own sandwich.

"But no one else did, so thank you," Neville said.

"Are you going to say anything to her?" Frisk asked. Neville looked at her blankly, so Frisk clarified. "Your grandmother? She may have meant well, but that was the tipping point, wasn't it?"

Neville coughed on his sandwich, "How can I... but I... that's Granny," he said. "I can't say anything to her."

Frisk looked at Neville, her mind racing through ideas. Finally it settled on one she thought might work. "Don't you think she'd respect you being brave enough to tell her how you felt?" she asked.

Neville looked like he was about to protest when Ginny spoke up, "I think that's a good idea. Besides," and her eyes glinted mischievously, "If you don't, Frisk might write it without you."

He turned to Frisk wide eyed. "You wouldn't..."

"I hadn't thought about it," Frisk admitted. "No, Neville, I wouldn't. But I wouldn't let this go, either. If you want your grandmother to know how you're feeling, you're going to have to tell her. She isn't going to otherwise. As for you," she turned to the grinning Ginny, "You've spent too much time with Fred and George."

"Guilty!" Ginny said cheerfully, raising a cup in admittance before drinking from it. Her face turned serious. "I do think it's a good idea, Neville, and I am glad you're feeling better.

"I'll think about it," Neville promised, taking another bite of lunch. "Maybe you're right, Frisk."

"Great," Frisk said. "I'll wait for you outside the portrait tonight. If someone lets you in first, just ask the Fat Lady to tell me, please?"

"I will... and Fisk? Thank you again," Neville said. "Just for being there."

That evening, Neville was waiting for Frisk outside the Gryffindor portrait passage, being leered at by the newly stationed security trolls. To Frisk's surprise, he agreed readily to write the letter with her. So they put homework on hold to do that.

Also surprising was that Hermione was in the common room, but Ron and Harry were not. If Frisk didn't consider the letter more important, Frisk would have taken another go at approaching her. She'd try again the next night.

It was just as well, when Harry and Ron did return to stare at the notice board announcing another Hogsmeade visit, they had another row with Hermione.

* * *

When Frisk returned the next night to the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Ron were there, but Hermione was not. So she couldn't actually ask her. Again.

Frisk, frustrated, and wondering if she missed her chance, climbed up to the dormitory to drop off her books. She was caught up enough with her homework that she wasn't worried about falling behind, so she was going to set it aside tonight. The resident Gryffindor cat, Crookshanks, was heading down, on what was surely important cat business.

"Crookshanks," Frisk complained to the mini-lion. "Where's Hermione? I really need a chance to talk to her." To Frisk's surprise, Crookshanks looked up at her, then sat down in the middle of the stairs, busily cleaning his face with a paw. Had he actually understood her? It seemed to be worth a go. "Uh, okay! Be right back!" She ran the rest of the way up the stairs, turned into the bedroom, and dropped of her bag. When she came back down, Crookshanks trotted down the stairs ahead of her.

"Get that cat out of here!" came a shout from the side.

Crookshanks flattened his ears, but didn't otherwise react, and headed down toward the portrait hole. He waited patiently while Frisk opened it for them, and headed for the grand staircase. They made their way down to the library first. The cat sat down outside the door, his tail swishing over the floor. Frisk did a quick search through it, but turned up no Hermione.

"No," Frisk told the feline, "she's not there." Crookshanks stood again, trotting quickly toward the great hall, and then to the main door. He pawed at it, looking back at Frisk. "Does Hermione let you out of the castle?" Frisk asked. The cat gave her a level stare, and Frisk gave in, pushing the door open.

She followed the determined feline across the grounds, pulling her robes tighter around her. She hadn't had Herbology today, and wasn't wearing her heavy cloak. When she got to the large hut on the far side of the grounds, she was shivering. She didn't need Crookshanks prompting to knock on the door.

A dog barked excitedly in response, "Now, who could that be?" came a gruff voice from inside. A moment later, the door opened, revealing the very large form of Professor Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. "Hullo. Who are you?" he asked, staring down to read the name stitched into Frisk's robe.

Crookshanks bolted into the room, and behind Hagrid, Frisk could see the brown haired and red-faced form of Hermione Granger. "Frisk?" she asked, "what are you doing here?"

"Freezing," Frisk said through chattering teeth. "May I come in?"

"O' course, o' course," Hagrid said, stepping back to allow Frisk entry. Frisk took one step into the warmth of the cabin and petrified. There was a large beast right in front of her that she'd never seen before. It had a horse's lower body, with the upper body of a majestic eagle. Its brilliant orange eyes were focused on Frisk. Thoughts bubbled into Frisk's mind.

 _That's a hippogriff. Best to introduce yourself._

"Hi," Frisk said, her eyes not leaving the hippogriff's. "My name's Frisk. Frisk Dreemurr."

The hippogriff didn't blink. It didn't move. Neither did Hagrid or Hermione. They were both staring at Frisk.

 _This kingly creature seems to be waiting for the proper respect_.

Frisk lowered her eyes, and since it was impossible to curtsy in a robe, she managed a deep bow. When she straightened up, the hippogriff took it in for a second, and then returned the bow, stretching its forelegs and lowering its head. Frisk felt the tension in the room evaporate, like she had just agreed to end a fight in the underground.

"May I touch you?" Frisk asked tentatively. The hippogriff leaned forward, and allowed Frisk to gently stroke his neck feathers. "Thanks," she whispered under her breath. But if there was a response, it didn't come to her. There never had been one. "You're beautiful," she said more loudly.

"I'm impressed! How'd you know ta do that?" Hagrid asked.

Frisk's mind raced to think of something plausible. "My friend Papyrus picked up a copy of the monster book of monsters," was what Frisk came up with. "I think he mentioned it."

"He was the skeleton we met in Hogsmeade, right?" Hermione asked, also sounding impressed. "And you remembered it under pressure."

"Skele... oh, one of the Undergroun' monsters?" Hagrid asked. "Anyway, if Buckbeak likes you, that's good enough fer me. So now tha' we're introduced, come 'n have a seat. May I offer you some tea?"

Frisk didn't really care for tea, but anything warm would feel good right at the moment. She maneuvered around to an empty spot at the table. "Please," she said. Hagrid poured some tea into an oversized cup, while Frisk finally got a chance to take in the hut.

Along with the hippogriff, there was a large black mastiff, which seemed to be done investigating Crookshanks (who had jumped on the table in annoyance) and oversized everything else, made to fit Hagrid's enormous stature. And, with only two books in front of her, was Hermione, just as red faced as when Frisk had seen her after the Quidditch match.

"So why are ye down here, Frisk?" Hagrid asked.

"Actually, I was looking for Hermione," Frisk said. "Crookshanks led me here, clever cat," she continued, reaching forward to scratch his ears. Hermione looked at her, startled, but still upset over something. "But now that I'm here... are you okay, Hermione?"

"I'm alright," Hermione said. Crookshanks hissed and Hagrid gave a snort.

"Yer not alright, 'ermione," Hagrid told her. "You just got done with th' waterworks." Hermione glared at both man and cat equally.

"That's not hard to tell," Frisk said, trying to take the pressure off Hagrid. "May I ask what's wrong?" Frisk waited, but Hermione wasn't done glaring. "Okay, I'll guess. You miss your friends, right?"

"It's that stupid rat!" Hermione said, with as much conviction as she could muster. "Crookshanks is just doing what comes naturally to a cat."

"People get funny about pets," Hagrid said sagely. "I told 'arry and Ron that last night. I mean, look at us, doing what we can for Buckbeak here." He leaned over, and with a large hand, stroked the hippogriff's torso.

"Crookshanks?" Frisk asked, struck by a thought. The cat looked up at its name. "Did you eat Scabbers... Ron's rat?"

"Frisk," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "It's just a cat." But Crookshanks shook his head in a very human like negative gesture. "Crookshanks," Hermione said disbelievingly. "You were trying to, right?" This time there was a noticeable pause, then Crookshanks shook his head again.

"But you were attacking him," Frisk said. Crookshanks turned to stare at Frisk. "Why?" Crookshanks tilted his head at Frisk. That had the feel of, "I'm a cat, genius," which didn't really help, because Frisk thought there was a reason but...

"It doesn't actually matter," Hermione said, her voice dropping back into depression. "Ron isn't going to believe Crookshanks anyway." Crookshanks stood, stretched, and walked across the table over to Hermione, pressing his cheek into hers, rubbing against it.

"I wish I had some ideas for you, 'ermione," Hagrid said. "I tried with the boys yesterday."

"Why don't you just apologize?" Frisk asked, remembering Ron's complaint at the Quidditch celebration. "I know you don't want to give up Crookshanks, and you shouldn't, but just saying..."

"But Crookshanks hasn't done anything wrong! And neither have I," Hermione declared, folding her arms.

"When it comes down to it," Frisk asked softly. "What's more important? You not being wrong, or your friendship with Ron and Harry?"

For several seconds, Hermione stared at Frisk.

"I think even I know the answer to that, 'ermione," Hagrid told her.

"My friendship," Hermione said, finally. "I want my friends back. But what do I say? How do I apologize to them? Where do I even start?"

Frisk smiled. "Let me help you with that."

"How?" Hermione asked, staring at her in confusion.

"Obviously, we'll roleplay."


	15. The Headmaster's Condition

"Honestly, Frisk," Hermione said, still giggling as they made their way back up toward the castle. "Ron isn't _that_ bad. He's got some common sense!"

Frisk smiled as they trudged back through the snow across the grounds towards the castle. They had started seriously enough, but after a couple of rounds, Frisk had started trying to break Hermione's grim mood. Judging from the laughter from both her and Hagrid, it had worked. Crookshanks had vanished into snow and darkness as they'd left, but they'd both agreed that he was catlike enough (and he was certainly intelligent enough) that they weren't really worried about him.

As they crossed the empty great hall, Hermione's nervousness caught up to her again. "Do you really think this will work?" Frisk looked over her shoulder, Hermione had stopped, and was looking at Frisk worriedly.

Frisk held out her hand. Hermione took it, and they headed into the grand staircase, "I think if Ron didn't miss you, he wouldn't be so rough." They started to climb up the six flights of stairs towards the Gryffindor common room. "Besides, could it actually get worse?"

"No," Hermione said, "It really couldn't."

"I probably shouldn't have asked that," Frisk said brightly, and they both laughed. As Frisk wasn't paying attention, she plunged one foot down into one of the stairwell's trick steps with a surprised, "Yipe!" Hermione helped her out, and they climbed the rest of the way to the Gryffindor tower.

Hermione provided the Fat Lady with the password, and they began the final trek to the common room. "Okay," Frisk said, "Be listening for your cue." Frisk ascended the last few steps, hoping Ron hadn't gone to bed yet.

He hadn't. He was sitting with Harry working on what appeared to be star charts. Frisk walked across the crowded room to them. Harry looked up, appearing grateful for the interruption. "Hello, Frisk. Need something?"

"Actually, I do," Frisk replied. "Someone would like a chance to talk to you, both of you."

Ron looked up at that, his face a scowling mixture of anger and contempt. "Well, we don't want talk to her. Do we, Harry?" he said, nudging his friend. But Harry said nothing, and his face was wistful.

"Are you sure?" Frisk asked, "Because I hear something different in your voice. It's sorrow, about how you miss being friends with her." Ron tried to interrupt, but Frisk spoke over it. "Just listen to what she has to say, okay?"

Harry put his hand on Ron's shoulder and nodded. "Come on, Hermione," Frisk said to the stairwell, as she became acutely aware that the common room had gone very quiet. Hermione emerged from the stairwell, and she looked extremely focused. Frisk stepped back, giving her space to be with Ron and Harry.

"Ron, Harry," Hermione began, though she was staring at the table in front of them. "I want to say I'm sorry." It was clear by his mouth dropping open in amazement, that this, by itself, was the last thing Ron expected to hear. "I should have taken the threat to Scabbers more seriously." She looked up, able to meet Ron's eyes. "I know he was your friend, you even took him to Egypt with you."

There was silence as Hermione took a deep breath and continued, "I'm sorry for your loss. I know you blame Crookshanks, but, but." she paused for a breath and continued, "blame me instead. He's my responsibility... and I'm the only one he has. What you feel about Scabbers... I feel about my cat. Please, don't make me choose between you and him. It's my fault. Will you forgive me?"

The common room was quiet, and all eyes were on Ronald Weasley. Harry turned to his friend, "That sounds pretty fair to me, Ron," Harry's face was hopeful, if uncertain.

Ron had a blank expression, and he just stared at Hermione, apparently unsure what to make of what he had just heard. Frisk held her breath. Finally, Ron nodded. "I accept your apology," he said, holding out his hand. Hermione grasped it, and shot Frisk a quick smile.

Frisk smiled back as Hermione took a seat next to Ron and Harry, having their first good, pleasant, friendly, conversation in what must have been months. On the other side of the fire, Frisk sat down and started a letter home. She was interrupted a while later by Hermione. "Frisk, thank you. Thank you so much. I can't say how much I've missed them. But I just realized something. You've been trying to ask me a question for a while now, and you deserve a minute. What did you want to ask?"

"How are you time traveling?" Frisk whispered. Hermione's hands flew to the neck of her robe, and her face paled. "Uhm, why don't we go someplace quieter," Frisk suggested, nodding to the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

Once up the stairs, they sat down on Frisk's four poster bed, and drew the curtains closed. "How did you figure it out?" Hermione asked. Frisk gave her the details about seeing her in the hall outside Defense, and how Neville and Harry had put her in two different classes at the same time, and how the simplest explanation of all this was in fact, traveling time. "I tried to be careful," Hermione said, "and vary my routes. But you noticed anyway."

"So," Frisk asked, excitedly, "How do you do it?"

Hermione's face fell. "I promised not to tell, Frisk. I swore up and down to both the headmaster and McGonagall that I wouldn't share the device with anyone if it wasn't a life or death situation. Wait... wait," she said, as Frisk's emotions came crashing down. "Why do you want it, anyway?"

Frisk went over the story her friends already knew, Hermione listened intently.

"I see why you were so excited," Hermione admitted. "But I'm not sure what I use will help you, anyway. It only goes back an hour at a time, that would be over seven thousand times to go back one year, and you want to go back even further than that. That doesn't mean you should give up!" Hermione added hurriedly. "You should ask the headmaster! He might know a way to help you."

"Dumbledore?" Frisk asked doubtfully. "Isn't he likely to tell Mom?"

"I don't think so. Just say you don't want to get her hopes up if you can't actually do it," Hermione explained, "I think he'll understand. In the meantime, I'll ask Ron and Harry, I'll bet they'd be willing to help."

"I guess I don't have a choice," Frisk said. "But... thanks. That'd be all seven people, if all three of you can help."

"I wish I could have helped you more, but if we can do it, we will," Hermione told her. "I trust Dumbledore."

* * *

It had taken all of her determination to approach Dumbledore during breakfast, surrounded as he was by Frisk's teachers, but his kind face and twinkling eyes had put Frisk at ease. "Certainly," he had told her, when she asked if she could meet with him in private. "I will have time after dinner to meet with you. Six o'clock, in my office on the second floor. Tell the Gargoyle: Affy Tapple."

Just before lunch, Hermione had pulled Frisk, Harry, and Ron into an empty classroom, and explained to them what Frisk needed. "Ginny asked me this morning," Ron said. "If Dumbledore says it's okay, we'll be there." Harry grinned at him. "It's not like there's spiders involved..." Ron said, annoyed. Then he looked nervous, "are there?"

Frisk had a sudden mental image of a terrified Ron being forced to sit in Muffet's spider bakery, and was forced to stifle a not-very-nice giggle.

"Can we see monster soul magic?" Harry asked.

"I was hoping to see it too, but I figured I'd wait for you two to be with me," Hermione added, eagerly.

"Thanks, Hermione," Ron said. Hermione beamed at him.

It wasn't as if Frisk hadn't been expecting this question. "Okay, gather close." She focused, and again, brought her soul up to the surface for the others to see. And again, the echoes of the magic resonated to bring the other nearby souls into view, too. Ron's was a bright orange, like the fruit. Hermione's a deep violet. But Frisk's concentration almost broke when she saw Harry's soul. The surprise wasn't that it was as red as Frisk's own, but that there was a black shape, slithering on top of it, trying to remain out of sight. It almost looked like a snake, feeding somehow on Harry's soul. She wasn't sure anyone else noticed, and that was probably for the best.

"Wow," Ron said, looking at the other three.

"They're different colors," Hermione said, fascinated. "Why is that?"

Frisk let her focus slide, and the souls faded from view. "The theory I was told is that it's based on some ideal that drives your being. Orange is bravery, that you're driven by a need to prove yourself. Violet was perseverance, though I'm not sure that's right, as the violet soul I encountered was extremely studious, and knew the value of words." She went through the others she'd seen, green for kindness, yellow for justice, light blue for patience, and a darker blue for integrity.

"And Red?" asked Harry.

"Determination," Frisk said, "The will to see through your goal all the way to the end, no matter what it takes."

"That's not really an ideal, though, is it?" Hermione asked. "Isn't that more of a... quality?"

"Maybe," Frisk said, shrugging. "It's interesting, though, this is a monster theory. And I've had a chance to see theirs through the same type of magic. Their souls are all silver, only human souls have these colors to them. So I don't know how they came up with it, or if they're even right. I'd like to think that souls had all these ideals to them. What's bravery without kindness?"

Ron's stomach rumbled audibly. "And what's any of these things without lunch? C'mon. Let's get down before all the food is gone."

* * *

That evening, after classes, when Ginny sat down next to Frisk, Frisk told her everything she'd learned in the last day. Though, as Frisk sneaked her tenth or so glance at the staff table, to see if Dumbledore had left, Ginny finally told her to calm down.

"Dumbledore's a kind person," Ginny said, "You'll do fine. Have some pumpkin juice to settle your stomach."

Frisk wasn't actually feeling hungry, but tried to force some food down at Ginny insistence. When she finally noticed Dumbledore had left, she gave herself two minutes, then excused herself. Ginny wished her, "Good luck!" as she departed.

When she got to the second floor, the gargoyle that blocked the passage almost blended in with the other statutory in the corridor, but she finally spotted it. "Excuse me," she said politely, though her heart was pounding, "Is this the headmaster's office?"

"It is," the gargoyle confirmed, "Do you know the password?"

"Taffy Apple," she supplied.

The gargoyle didn't move.

"That's not it? Oh, what was it? Oh, right, Affy Tapple!"

The gargoyle leaped aside, revealing a small spiraling staircase. "Go on in, he's expecting you."

Frisk climbed the stairwell. When she reached the top, she stood transfixed by the sheer number of gizmos, gadgets, and magical mechanisms that puffed, smoked, and whirred in various places throughout the office. Portraits hung throughout the office, labeled with golden plaques that indicated they were previous headmasters of Hogwarts, most of them appeared to be asleep, though a few gazed at Frisk as she entered. On a perch in one corner was a large orange and red bird, staring at her with golden eyes. In the center of it all was Dumbledore, examining the contents of a large stone basin. "Ah, good evening, Ms. Dreemurr," he said, his eyes twinkling, when he noticed her entry. "Take a seat," he said, flourishing a wand at a chair that she didn't think was there a second ago, "How can I help you this fine evening?"

Frisk gratefully sat down. "I wanted to ask you, Headmaster Dumbledore, sir: How does Hermione Granger travel in time?" She explained, much as she did to Hermione the previous night, how she had made the connections.

"Ms. Granger has been given care of a device called a time-turner. Why would a first year student need such a powerful item? Surely you don't wish to follow her footsteps and take more classes then there are hours in the day, do you?" he asked, smiling at her.

"To save a soul," Frisk said. She was about to explain about Asriel, when Dumbledore interrupted her.

"Why don't you tell me your entire story from the beginning," Dumbledore said. "I like a good story well told."

Frisk hesitated. She didn't really want the story of her being able to force her timeline backwards to get out further. But she needed this, and it seemed like a very bad idea to lie to the headmaster. So, after asking for his promise that he not share it (unless it was to prevent people from being hurt), she told her story, from the beginning, with nearly nothing left out. The true labs, the experiments with determination, even her letting the monster kid fall, were all covered in detail. And through the entire tale, Dumbledore didn't interrupt her, or express doubt, one single time.

"So, you wish a time turner," Dumbledore said, "To retrieve a soul that would have otherwise been lost, and use it to help Asriel find himself again. That I can understand and appreciate. There is a problem, that I am sure Hermione has pointed out to you already. A time-turner goes backward an hour at a time. The level of precision you need, especially at that distance of time, is very nearly impossible," Dumbledore said, meeting Frisk's eyes with a shrewd expression, suspecting this problem might have already been solved.

Frisk had, indeed, been thinking about it. "My friend Sans created a time machine, partially with monster magic, partially with human technology, but he couldn't figure a way to power it. I'm certain he could use the time-turner as a focus, and find a way to automate all of that."

Dumbledore's expression was thoughtful. He rested his hands on his desk, tapping his fingers together rhythmically. "A lot of wizards would think a... technomancy of that sort, barbaric. I would have to... or rather, find someone to talk to your friend to see if such a machine could be developed. Maybe Kurt Kairos... he works in the Department of Mysteries, and I think this might be fascinating for him."

"Now," he continued. "Let us presume that with help, such a machine can be created, and you retrieve the soul to return to young Dreemurr. You said that he was able to 'absorb' souls, so it stands to reason that he can accept his own. Yet, in order to return his body, he needs the assistance of others, correct? But you have those that who have offered, right? Who?"

"Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw," Frisk began, "Opal Oxtoby, from Hufflepuff. Myself, Ron and Ginny Weasley, and Hermione Granger from Gryffindor..." she continued, then stopped. Could she count the other?

"I was waiting for Mr. Potter's name to turn up," Dumbledore told her, "Especially if Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley are there."

"I saw something in his soul," Frisk admitted, "It was like a piece of black light... both part of him and not part of him..." Dumbledore didn't look surprised, but for just a moment, infinitely sad. "I think there's something wrong with it."

"There's that confirmed, then," Dumbledore said softly to himself. Then he said to Frisk, "I do not believe there is anything wrong with Mr. Potter's soul, but I think you're right. There is something foreign there that you will not wish to expose to Asriel. You should not mention this to anyone else, not even to Harry, am I clear?" The twinkle was gone from his eye, and his seriousness was intimidating.

"Yes, headmaster."

"And I cannot say," he continued, and the tone was pleasant again, "that this project will be without risks. From what you have told me, I think it will be safe, but we are messing with a magic that even the Department of Mysteries has not tried to research: souls. If you are going to ask wizards to risk their souls, they are going to need to be perfectly sure they understand what is going on. So I will need to ask them to talk to me, and sign consent forms. As they are underage..."

Frisk felt her stomach lurch.

"They will need to have a parent or guardian sign as well. I will make sure they understand the need for secrecy. The only thing worse than fear is a dashed hope, especially for something like this. But if it word gets out – and it will – parents will need to know that I held the safety of their own children in the highest esteem."

But Frisk was feeling her heart sink. Would her mom let her do something like that, even if she had already? Would she be happy knowing she was risking others? And would the parents of anyone else sign on to something like that?

"I see your face, but I think people are better than you might believe, and parents understand parents, in general. Parents understand the lengths one would go to protect a son or daughter, and how much it would mean for one to be restored." Dumbledore frowned suddenly. "Frisk, are you crying?"

Was she? She wiped at her face, and found that, yes, tears had escaped from her eyes, though she didn't understand why. Everything Dumbledore had said made sense, and she didn't feel especially worked up about it. It was just another obstacle to be overcome, and she would overcome it. "Okay, sir. I understand. I'll ask them to see you when they can," Frisk said.

"Very good," Dumbledore said, he was smiling once again. "Now, is there anything else?"

"There is," Frisk admitted. "I was hoping to bring the body of Asriel's friend, Chara, and find a way to," Frisk looked up at Dumbledore, an exaggerated smile on her face, "a way to," she wiggled her fingers hopefully. "Bring her back, too."

"I'm sorry, Frisk," Dumbledore said sadly. "There is no spell in the world that can return a soul to its body."

"But... but it won't have to!" Frisk said, quickly. "In order to come back through the barrier, Asriel absorbed Chara's soul... it'll be right there. We can bring it back as well. The body and the soul will be together. We just have to... reconnect them, somehow."

"I don't know Frisk..."

"She wouldn't have even been 'dead' long, not really. Just long enough for Asriel to take her home, and back. That's not even that far, since he could go through the barrier!" Frisk said. She was speaking quickly, and it was bordering on babble.

"But I'm not sure, even if we could, if it would be the right thing to do."

Frisk felt herself hyperventilating, and Dumbledore's eyes were growing wide. Did she dare drop her one last bombshell, and obliterate her one last lie?

"Frisk, are you feeling alright?"

"I hope it is," Frisk said softly, "Because I've died."


	16. The Dark Side of Bravery

For the first time in the entire conversation, Dumbledore looked like he'd been caught by surprise. "You've died?" Dumbledore hadn't lost his smile, but his face was focused and intense, and his blue eyes threatened to pierce Frisk's soul. "When was this?"

"The first time was with Undyne. I kept trying to talk to her, but she wouldn't respond. She just threw spear after spear at me, and I couldn't dodge them all. Eventually, my soul cracked and broke. I remember blacking out, and hearing a voice that I had never heard before. It told me that, 'You can't give up! You have to stay determined!' Then I woke up. I recognized when I was... it had been just before Undyne had jumped down to confront me. She didn't remember that we had already fought. This time, when she attacked me, I just started running, and I've told you the rest."

Dumbledore was silent during this. He appeared to be thinking, or perhaps remembering something. "You said 'First Time'. There were others?" he asked.

"Yes," Frisk said, remembering. It seemed like so long ago. It had happened on the very first loop. "Dad. King Asgore. Twice." Frisk shivered. "Please, please don't tell him. But that's when I realize it was his voice I'd heard before. "

Dumbledore's eyes closed in thought for several seconds, enough that Frisk began to worry about what he was thinking about. Was she about to be called an abomination? She was still herself, right? But the only question he asked was, "Why would you have heard his voice?"

"I think they were memories," Frisk said, "Just... not mine. I've been told that, when Mom, Toriel, I mean, took Chara out of the castle, she buried her in a garden of the ruins. In one of the few places in the Underground that saw natural sunlight: the hole under Mt. Ebott. When I fell, I fell onto her grave."

For a second, Frisk swore she saw a glimmer of realization cross Dumbledore's face. "She poisoned herself, you said, right?" he asked. Frisk nodded. "Could she have... unintentionally..." Dumbledore interrupted himself, scratching his beard. There was silence for a bit longer, as the headmaster must have been working down a line of thought that he wasn't willing to share with Frisk.

"Frisk," he said finally, "I still cannot promise what will happen. Again, I must stress, no magic can truly bring back the dead, but..." he held up his hand to forestall Frisk's further protests, "I need time to consider the possibilities. Then again, in a way, I've already made the decision, I just don't know what it is yet." He chuckled.

Frisk's confusion must have been evident on her fact, because he continued. "I do hope Kurt isn't squeamish. Hm, he always did like a bit of a flutter, maybe I can make a bet with him." He raised his eyebrows, to see if Frisk understood now.

Her eyes were wide, because she did get it. "You're going to ask him to dig up Chara's grave, to see if we did bring her body through time," Frisk said.

"Precisely," complemented Dumbledore, "While finding out locks us into a course of action, a rash decision normally, I think in this case, it is a good plan." Frisk got the feeling there was more to it, but she didn't want to push her luck. "Now, do you have any other questions, Frisk?" The matter of Chara was, for the moment, apparently closed.

"Two, sir. How do I tell Harry that I shouldn't have his help? Because people will wonder."

"Harry's relationship with his uncle being what it is, you will find that will take care of itself." Which seemed to be an answer, more or less. "What is the other?"

"How do I get a permission slip signed without Mom figuring out what I'm trying to do?" Frisk asked.

"I can take care of that," the headmaster said. "Did I read correctly, in the Quibbler, that Ms. Toriel Dreemurr had wanted to be a teacher?"

"Yes..." Frisk said, unsure why this was a question. What did this have to do with the permission slip?

"Excellent. Then I shall tell you not to worry about it," he said with a bright smile. "Focus on the other six, and do not worry about your own. Is that everything, Frisk?"

Frisk thought, but couldn't come up with any other questions. "Just, tell me what Mr. Kairos discovers? Please, sir?"

"As soon as I know myself." He smiled benignly at her. "Have a good evening, Frisk."

"Have a good evening, Headmaster Dumbledore," Frisk said, holding out a hand for him to shake. Before she left, she had to introduce herself to the beautiful bird that absolutely had to be a phoenix. She held out her hand, and he arched his body, allowing her to stroke him. His feathers were warm, borderline hot to the touch.

"That is Fawkes," Dumbledore said, smiling at her. "And I think he likes you,"

With that, Frisk saw herself out of the study, and back to Gryffindor Tower.

When Frisk got back to the common room, she got Ginny's attention, and they sat down with Harry, Ron, and Hermione together in one of the several alcoves. While the Weasley tried to hide it, Frisk noticed Ginny reddening slightly when she sat down near Harry. "What did you find out?" asked Hermione, eagerly.

Frisk began by saying they thought they had a way to retrieve Asriel's soul. She was intentionally vague on how they were going to do that. Time travel was Hermione's secret to reveal, not Frisk's. "But," she continued, "He wants each of us to talk to him, and we need to have our parents sign a permission slip.

All four of them looked crestfallen. "Mother and Father," Hermione said, "Don't know half the things I get up to at Hogwarts. If they knew I'd been attacked by a troll, sneaked away to find the philosopher's stone... they'd pull me out of her instantly. It's supposed to be a school, not dangerous like this. I don't even want to tell them about the dementors."

"And while Uncle Vernon might willingly put me into danger, he's not going to sign anything I ask him to sign. I know this all too well," Harry said.

"Mum wouldn't let us risk ourselves either," Ginny began.

"But Dad might," Ron said. "To rescue a child from a fate worse than death. He knows Dumbledore pretty well, too. I don't think he'd ask us to do anything that was too dangerous, not if he didn't think it was worth it. I mean, he never said anything after we threatened Lockhart and went into the chamber, right, Harry?"

"Right, Ron," Harry said. He snorted, "Besides, Lockhart deserved it."

Ginny was quiet with thought. Finally, she spoke. "And how could we deserve being rescued like that, if we weren't willing to rescue people ourselves. Alright. We can write a letter together, tonight, Ron." Ron nodded enthusiastically.

"I can look it over when you're done," Hermione offered, and Harry offered his help as well.

"You're sure you can't even ask, Hermione?" Frisk asked, trying, but failing, to keep the desperation out of her voice. "I mean..."

"I'm sure. My parents have some strong feelings on things like that. But I believe in you," Hermione said quickly, "If there's anything else I can do, just ask."

"Why don't you ask Neville?" Ginny asked. "After you kept him company with that howler, he might say yes."

"I... I don't want to make it sound like my help came with a price tag," Frisk said, "I don't want him to feel obligated to say yes because it was me asking." Frisk looked around, but didn't see Neville. "Did he make it in the common room tonight?" she asked.

"Gone to bed already," Ron said.

"I think I'm going to follow suit, Frisk said. "It's been a long day."

* * *

Frisk told Opal and Luna the Headmaster's condition the next morning at breakfast. They promised to get on their letter writing promptly. But that was all Frisk heard for a while. It was going to take time for the letters to be written, get to the parents, and then back.

In the meantime, there were still classes to get to, extra flying practice on Saturday, and on Sunday, her self-imposed visit with Madame Pomfrey.

At least, more recently, the healer had begun to expect her, and actually had things lined up for Frisk to help with. This particular Sunday, the hospital ward was occupied by a pair of sixth years, who'd apparently gotten themselves some nasty burns overheating something called a Volubillis Potion. They were in particularly low spirits, because this had meant they'd missed the chance to visit Hogsmeade.

"It happens, Frisk," Madame Pomfrey explained to her. "Potions are a tricky business, especially once you reach the NEWT level courses. This one in particular needs to be heated just right, or it froths rather spectacularly, and as it is acidic at that stage," she gestured to her patients. "Could you fetch the burn balm from the cabinet?"

Frisk was beginning to be very familiar with the healer's supply cabinet, located the burn balm in short order, and returned with it, watching the healer apply the balm. It seemed to melt away almost instantly, but the healer seemed satisfied. "The potion bonds with the skin," the healer explained. "It needs to be reapplied every few hours until the balm no longer melts. If you've ever wondered why Professor Snape is so particular about his potion teaching, this is a fine example of why."

Personally, Frisk felt Snape had other issues about his potion teaching, but she kept that to herself. Once they were done, she went to go put the balm away.

"That reminds me," said the Ravenclaw on the bed said, "Is it true that Sam Taylor came down with Dragon Pox?"

"You know I can't answer that, Sarah," Madame Pomfrey admonished.

"But Dragon Pox is infectious! We ought to know!"

"The chance you came down with it is near zero," the healer countered. Then she sighed. "You're right. You should know. He did seem to have come down with a very mild case of Dragon Pox, and was transferred to St. Mungos for observation and treatment."

"What's Dragon Pox?" Frisk asked.

"It is, as Sarah says, an infectious disease, one that leaves the skin pockmarked, like the more mundane Chicken Pox. Dragon Pox, however, only infects wizards, and turns their skin green, among other things. It gets its name for the sparks that the sufferer emits from the nostrils when sneezing."

"Oh," said Frisk, unnerved. "Is there a cure?"

"There is, which is why he was sent to St. Mungos. I detoxified the area extremely thoroughly afterward, so there's nothing to worry about," she said.

"So, what else can I help you with today?" Frisk asked, suspecting a full-on reorganization of the supply closet was about to be in order.

* * *

Another few days went by, and it was all Frisk could do not to ask her friends if there had been any response each time she saw them. Ron, in particular, was distracted writing an appeal for Buckbeak the Hippogriff, and she helped out where she could, if only for her own distraction. She was still trying to focus on trying to figure out the last two people who might lend their souls to someone they had never met.

Opal was the first to hear back. As Frisk discovered as she was being nearly tackled from behind into a hug on her way into breakfast. "They said yes!" she exclaimed as Frisk staggered forward, holding a signed permission slip in front of her like it was made of gold.

Frisk's heart soared, and she turned to return Opal's hug. "That's amazing. I need to thank them so much."

Opal handed her a separate paper. It was a letter from Opal's parents, and Frisk skimmed through how they'd had to talk with each other long and hard, on several separate occasions. About how if Dumbledore truly thought it was dangerous, he wouldn't ask, especially a first year. About how the risk was still incredible. But how the people who would try would be limited. And finally, how Ms. Oxtoby had become friends with Toriel, talking on the phone on multiple occasions, and meeting for tea. Frisk looked up.

"If we don't do it," Opal said, "who would?" She grinned at Frisk. "Two down, five to go."

That afternoon, Frisk was climbing the grand staircase toward Defense when the stairwell began to move under her feet. She gripped the banister in shock, staring up, still slightly more than two floors below where she needed to be. Once the stairwell stopped moving, she continued cautiously up the stairs.

At the top, she was stymied. She needed to keep going, but there were no stairways leading up from her landing. And it didn't seem like any of the others were going to do the favor of heading her way. So, with no obvious way towards class, Frisk went the only way she could, down the hallway in front of her. From ahead of her, around the corner, she heard a cry a pain. Thoughts of class forgotten, she hurried around the bend.

When she turned, the sight ahead of her was disturbing. A Slytherin of her year was sprawled on the ground, his books scattered around him. On the other side of him was a well built, older, Gryffindor, and he was laughing. Frisk stared at the scene for a moment, taking it in, then she quietly reached down to help the fallen boy regain his feet.

"What are you doing, Dreemurr?" her fellow Gryffindor snarled. She couldn't place his name, though she felt she should.

"Helping him," Frisk said. Her voice was soft, but determined.

"He doesn't deserve our help," he growled. "He's a Slytherin. You saw how their team interfered with our Quidditch match. You know what they're like."

"He's not on their team, and you can't really think treating them like this will make them more likely to respect us, can you?" Frisk asked, as the boy clambered back to his feet, then reached down to reclaim his lost book.

"Slytherins don't respect anything," the older boy said, and kicked out toward the knee of the younger boy.

In retrospect, the kick probably would have missed by a good distance, but Frisk didn't chance it. She stepped forward, and took that kick right on the shin with audible crack. Frisk cried out in pain, both in the body, and the soul as well. This wasn't some kick in frustration, he had meant it to hurt, and it did. Frisk's leg was unable to support her, and she collapsed.

From what must have been a secret passage, Professor Flitwick appeared. "What's going on here?" he demanded. His voice was as high pitched as it ever was, but Frisk had never heard him angry, and this wasn't just angry. His voice had gone straight to furious.

He looked between the students, and selected the Slytherin, who looked terrified. "Mr. Steven Marsh, what happened here?"

Steven's voice was as scared as he looked. "Professor," he answered quickly, "I was on my way from History of Magic down to Herbology when... when," he gestured, open handed, at the Gryffindor boy.

"Mr. Cormac McLaggen," Professor Flitwick provided.

"Just... runs into me, shoulder first. I dropped my books and fell, sir. When she," he gestured at Frisk, who was trying and failing to stand, "came, and was helping me up, and McLaggen tried to kick me. She took the strike."

"C'mon," Cormac scoffed, "Don't lie to..."

"Oh?" Flitwick said, raising an eyebrow, "You disagree?" He turned to a portrait of an older gentlemen, sitting comfortably in a rocking chair. "My pardon, Bernard, did you witness the altercation between the students just now?"

"I did, professor!" The painted man said, still rocking in his chair. "And the young Slytherin and I clearly saw the same things."

Flitwick turned back to the students, and spied Cormac trying to slip quietly away. In an instant, the professor's wand was out, and without either a word or a gesture, a green beam of light flew from it, striking Cormac in the back. He seemed to shiver for a moment, and then his legs began to quiver and wobble, and Cormac wasn't going much of anywhere, his limbs apparently had been given the structure of gelatin.

"Let's start with ten points from Gryffindor," Flitwick started conversationally. "It'd be more, but your house appears to be on both sides of this conflict." He looked at Frisk, being supported by the Slytherin. "Prefect!" he called in the empty hall, "I could use a prefect!"

After a few seconds, a older boy in Ravenclaw colors and a prefect's badge came hurrying from the direction of the stairwell. "Ah, Marcus, excellent. Can you assist Frisk here down to the hospital wing, please? And you, Steven, get yourself to Herbology. If you're late, tell Madam Sprout to ask me for the reason later." He turned back to Cormac. "As for you sir, you'd best hope your head of house has a free period. Because I know just how upset she gets at being interrupted. March!"

Cormac tried to take a step forward, his leg wobbled, and he toppled over. Flitwick glanced at the other three students and winked. "Ah yes. I forgot about that." He gestured with his wand, and struck Cormac with a silver beam. After waiting for Cormac to rise to his feet. "Now, as I was saying, march!" And, waving his wand like a conductor's baton, escorted Cormac out of sight down the hall.

"Here," Marcus said, "Lean against me, Frisk, right?"

Frisk nodded, her leg still weak and in pain. The Slytherin followed them as far as the landing. As they turned to head for Madam Pomfrey, he whispered, "Thank you", before disappearing down the stairs towards the entrance hall. Frisk limped with the prefect, wondering if she was about to get her first taste of Skele-gro.


	17. Ambition's Bright Side

Madame Pomfrey was in her office when Frisk limped into the Hospital wing, and the rest of the beds were empty. "Be out in just a second, if it's not an emergency," she called. The Ravenclaw prefect helped Frisk reach a bed, and sit down on it. When Madame Pomfrey came out, he pointed out the younger Gryffindor, and departed, as he had his own class to get to, and he was late.

"Frisk?" asked Madame Pomfrey, her voice betrayed her worries. She walked over to check on her helper turned patient. "What happened to you?" she asked.

"A bully," said Frisk, and she detailed the encounter upstairs.

The healer listened intently, then shook her head in frustration. "I'll never understand bullies. They don't happen often with portraits watching every hallway, but they do happen. Anyway, roll up your robe, and let me take a look." Frisk did so, gingerly, her shin was still sore to the touch.

"Lumostos," Madam Pomfrey intoned. The tip of her wand lit with a warm silver light, and held it close to Frisk's wounded leg. The light seemed to go right past the Frisk's skin and muscles to illuminate the bones underneath. She studied what she saw for a few minutes, enough time for Frisk's mind to create several life shattering scenarios about what she could be seeing. "I was wondering how a simple kick might break a shin. You have small fractures all over your legs. Probably from your falls. See?"

Once pointed out, Frisk did see. There were minor scuffs and bits and spider cracks all along her leg bones. "What do we do?" Frisk said anxiously.

"It means you're likely to break your legs again, if we don't treat the baseline problem," Madam Pomfrey explained, "The most straightforward method is skele-grow, that's what we ought to do. It's easiest to start from scratch," She paused, and thought better of the suggestion. "Actually, what I suggest is that I mend your actual break right now, that will let you get to class. Come back after dinner on Friday, and I can rebuild your bones over the weekend."

"That sounds good," Frisk said politely. She was not inclined to argue with the healer. She had seen what happened to people who tried that.

"Very good, now hold still." Madam Pomfrey waved her wand in a rapid, complex pattern over the spot of the break. When she finished, though, Frisk didn't feel noticeably better, but her physician had repeated her previous bone light incantation and was looking over the break point with satisfaction. "Can you stand, Frisk?"

Frisk's leg still hurt, but she lifted herself off the bed and put her feet gingerly down, and yes, she was able to stand.

Madam Pomfrey had a look of satisfaction. "Let me go get some numbing potion for the pain," she said, heading over to the cabinet to retrieve a blue bottle. She measured a dose into a cup, and handed it to Frisk, who drank it promptly. The potion tasted just enough like cherry to remind her of the flavor, but not close enough to actually takes good. With that said, the pain was gone within moments, so if nothing else, it was effective.

"Very good. Let me write you a note, and you can be off to... what class do you have now?

"Defense," Frisk replied. "But, Madam Pomfrey, can you teach me that charm you used to look at my bones? Lumostos?"

"I can, but you have class to get to," Pomfrey told her. "Tell you what, when you come back on Friday, I will."

"Deal," Frisk said, smiling. "Thank you," she said, holding out her hand to shake. Then she was off to try to get to her class again, at least if the stairwells didn't get in her way this time.

* * *

When Frisk arrived at dinner that night, she had planned to keep the incident quiet. While her fellow first years had whispered to themselves about why Frisk was late, Professor Lupin hadn't said anything after taking Madam Pomfrey's note. She was talking to Ginny about how Opal had gotten her permission, but they'd not yet heard from anyone else when she was interrupted.

"Dreemurr," came the voice behind her.

She recognized it immediately and held back a sigh. "Cormac," she said, forcing a smile and she turned around to face the older student. His unpleasant look made Frisk wondered briefly what McGonagall punishments had devised for him.

"A Slytherin," he said, coldly. "You came to the defense of a slinking, treacherous, double faced, Slytherin. I thought you were a Gryffindor."

"What are you talking about, Cormac?" Ginny asked, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and suspicion.

"He was just trying to get to class, Cormac," Frisk said mildly. "Just like I was."

Connor snorted. "And he ran into me. You should be careful which Slytherins you talk to, there's a better than even chance you talk to one that looks up to the death eaters. So decide what side you're on."

"Side?" Frisk protested. "Cormac, he's a student in another house. He's not an enemy."

"You're naive, Frisk, but you'll learn. Slytherins can't be trusted. And you should stay out of my way," and with that, and a casual bump against Frisk's seat, he headed up the table to the upper class area. Frisk watched him as he headed up, and noticed there were several people in that area watching her in return. She shook her head and returned to her dinner.

"What was that all about?" Ginny asked. Frisk could still feel the eyes of her classmates on her, and discussion in their area of the great hall had dropped dramatically. So, not seeing any real choice, Frisk told the story. When she was finished, some people looked sympathetic, others shrugged their shoulders, but there was a clear number that seemed to share Connor's opinion, even if they didn't condone his violence. That was disheartening, though it didn't change what Frisk thought.

Frisk finished her food, leaving the table quickly. After reaching the stairwell, the sound footfalls from behind told her that Ginny was racing to catch up. "For what it's worth, I think you did the right thing, and I hope I would have done it too," Ginny said as Frisk stopped to wait for her.

"Thanks," Frisk told her as they climbed up to the common room. They were the second and third person in there. Hermione had already put up her book-fort, and was working on some essay or other. As Frisk hadn't spent a good deal of time on her own homework over the last three days, it seemed like a good idea to catch up herself.

"There's one thing I don't understand," Ginny said, as she took out her potions book. Frisk had already cracked open her charms textbook, and was ready to practice her opening charm on the padlock she'd been given for this purpose.

"Alohomora!" Frisk declared to the unimpressed lock. "What's that, Ginny?"

"Why'd did the stairs choose that point to move?" she asked. "It led you right into the confrontation."

Frisk's hand paused in double checking the charm's gesture in the Standard Book of Spells. "That's actually a good question. I have no idea."

"What was that?" Hermione's head bobbed into view from behind her arithmancy book. "Stairs moving?"

Frisk briefly outlined the story, with how the stairway had swung with her on it. "Has that ever happened to you?" She asked.

"No, it hasn't," Hermione said. "But I've read 'Hogwarts: A History'. There's so many enchantments on this castle that nobody knows what they all do any more. The author speculates that maybe one of the founders, or maybe Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, working together, gave the castle a limited sentience. Or maybe there's just been so much magic in the halls that the castle was able just to start paying attention on its own. Either way, I think you're right. I think the castle did know that you'd be able to help there, and changed its pathways to suit." Hermione paused, thinking. "I wonder if that's how I ended up running in front of you so many times... that it knew you needed to know about..." she glanced at Ginny, "The time turner."

That was a lot to think about. "Should I be flattered?" asked Frisk, wryly. "I'm glad the castle thinks I can handle this, but I'd rather not have any more crises until I've been to see Madam Pomfrey. If it's all the same to the castle, anyway."

Ginny laughed. Hermione laughed too, and her head disappeared back behind the books.

Frisk returned to the padlock. "Alohomora!", she chanted, but the padlock was still unimpressed.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Madam Pomfrey asked her on Saturday morning. Frisk had spent the night with no bones in her legs, a sensation she would just as soon never have again.

"Better, I guess," Frisk said. Her friends had kept her company over night. Even Ron and Hermione had made appearances, though Harry was too busy with Quidditch practice to join them. But nobody had come to see her yet this morning. They were probably still eating.

"Why don't we take a look?" The healer suggested. "You wanted to try the bone-light spell, right?"

Frisk did. She sat up, reached over, and grabbed her wand from where it rested on the bedside table. Then she looked up excitedly for instruction.

"It's actually not that exciting," Madam Pomfrey said, noting Frisk's eager face. "Just like the base spell that it's a derivative of, Lumos, it simply makes the wand emit light. In this case, the wand emits light that only the bones reflect, and a side effect, makes the skin translucent enough to see the reflected light. So, listen and repeat: Lumostos. Then hold you wand over where you want to see."

"Lumostos," repeated Frisk. Her wand glowed with the same silver light that the Healer's had, and she lowered it over her legs. As before, the wand's light illuminated the bones of Frisk's legs. They glowed a bit whiter than before, and as advertised, the cracks were gone.

"Splendid, can you stand?" Madam Pomfrey asked her.

Just like the last time she'd been asked that question, Frisk cautiously raised herself off the bed. She gingerly tested her balance while holding the side of the bed. After a moment, she let go, confident in her new bones capability to support herself. "Looks like I can," she said.

"Then you can go up to breakfast," the healer said. "Will I be seeing you tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," Frisk said. "And thank you again."

The rest of the weekend went by as weekends had for her in her first year, but this was the last week before a week long Easter break. So that was something for Frisk to look forward to. She climbed down to the potions dungeon, and lined up with the other Gryffindors. When the door was thrown open and the students filed in, Frisk felt a tap on the shoulder.

She turned to see the Slytherin she'd helped in the corridor the Thursday before, and for the first time, got a good look at him. He was a brown eyed fellow, with unkempt brown hair, and he was giving her a nervous smile. His robes were disheveled and slightly stained, and his green Slytherin scarf was draped around his shoulders. "I know you don't get the same partner each class, Frisk, and I know you've had differences with Professor Snape, so I thought I could partner with you this time around," he indicated one of the middle, usually empty, tables. "I'm good in potions."

"Okay," Frisk said, somewhat bemused. "Steven, right?"

"That's me," he said. He put his empty cauldron on the indicated table. Frisk went to get hers, and set up next to him. As there was an even number of students in both houses, this caused a bit of a problem. The odd student out in Gryffindor (Laura Johnson) and Slytherin (whom she didn't know the name of) looked at at each other, then coldly at Frisk and Steven, and each of them decided to work alone that day. If Professor Snape had an opinion on the unusual student set up, he didn't share it. "Today, you will be working on a forgetfulness potion. Directions," he flicked his wand, "are on the blackboard. And you may wish to remember this one."

Frisk stared at him, had the potions master actually made a pun? He may have, it may have even been intentional, but nobody laughed or groaned.

Steven had pulled out a notebook, and was beginning to copy the instructions and ingredients. Frisk did the same. "Here," he said, when he finished. "Double check me?" Frisk, surprised, did so. That was something she'd never done with her previous partners, and it'd be something she'd make sure to do from then on.

"Looks good," Frisk said. "I'll get the dittany and start to grind it, why don't you get the Flobberworm mucus and measure it out." Steven nodded, and departed to the store cupboard. For a change, potions was mostly quiet, while Snape did slink around the room, and he did harass other of the Gryffindors, he didn't say a cruel word to either Frisk or Steven.

Towards the end of the class, the professor did approach their desk, and Frisk prepared herself for the usual criticism. Instead, he looked at Frisk with the same look that the monsters of the underworld sometimes did when they had a particularly strong case of déjà vu. Frisk looked back in complete confusion, because she had no idea what could be causing it. After several seconds, his eyes shifted to the orange potion bubbling nicely in front of Frisk. "Good job, Ms. Dreemurr," he finally said, and moved on.

Frisk's jaw dropped.

Steven poked her out of her paralysis. "We're not done," he whispered. "We still need to stir it," he consulted his notes, "rapidly for a minute." He turned over his timer. "Go."

At the end, they bottled their potions for inspection. Frisk would have given a lot for an explanation, but she didn't dare ask for one. They cleaned up. "Did it go well?" Steven asked anxiously.

"It did," Frisk said, smiling at him.

"Then... then can we do it again next class?"

"Let's," said Frisk. They cleaned up their potion materials, and were heading upstairs towards dinner, when they were intercepted by Luna, waving a piece of paper in front of them. Steven stopped in surprise.

"He signed it," Luna told her. "Actually, he signed it about three weeks ago, but it was press time, and he lost it. He finally found it again. So I can go with you to help save Asriel's soul. Three down, four to go, right?"

"Wait, what's this?" asked Steven.

"Luna..." Frisk said, turning red and glancing pointedly at Steven.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Luna said, perhaps noticing Steven for the first time. "Was it supposed to be a secret?" she asked Frisk. "I thought we still needed more people to help, and I thought you were asking him."

"Asking me what?" Steven asked, even more confused.

"I'm sorry, Steven," Frisk began. She gave him the synopsis of what they were trying to do. "And I can't think that you would..." she tried to conclude.

"I'll ask," he said immediately. Luna beamed at him. Frisk stared in shock. "A chance to do a favor for the King and Queen of Monsters?" he said, "That's an amazing opportunity." He realized what he said, and he turned even redder then Frisk's Gryffindor scarf. "I was thinking of... like... a reference. I want to work for the Ministry of Magic... and being able to say I did that for them? That would be really good, right?" he said. He saw Frisk's neutral face, and looked crestfallen. "I know what you want to hear, that someone's in trouble and of course I'll risk myself for them, right? Right." He started to back off.

Frisk held out hand to stop him. "If it was for someone else, someone who wasn't so important. Would you volunteer to help then?" she asked him.

"I think so. It's still showing a willingness to help others," he gave the same nervous smile he had when he'd asked Frisk to partner in potions. "I'm in Slytherin, people think help from someone in our house comes with some sort of dark bargain. I'm kind of used to it."

"I don't think it is," Frisk said. "Not any more than I'm willing to think each and every Gryffindor is capable of being selfless and courageous at all times." She held out her hand for Steven to take. "Asriel needs help. If you're willing to offer it, I want to accept it. You have your reasons, and I accept those," she said smiling. "If they're not perfectly altruistic, I'll live."

"And with any luck," Luna put in, "So will Asriel."

They'd reached the great hall, and they walked together up to the staff table, so Steven could ask Dumbledore for the permission slip. When Dumbledore saw him, he gave both him and Frisk a genuine smile, before conjuring up a piece of paper to hand down from the dais.


	18. Rivalries Examined

While news of Snape's uncharacteristic compliment of a Gryffindor made it around the school relatively quickly, most people wrote it off as a sort of payback for Frisk coming to Steven's defense. The fact that she'd left one of Gryffindor's own partner-less was a bit harder for some people to swallow.

For the people for whom this was an issue, pointing out that there was a Slytherin Laura could have partnered with didn't go any better.

But it wasn't only the Gryffindors that Frisk had to look out for, as she found when she tried to head into the Great Hall for lunch the next day. As she came down from Charms, she found her way blocked by three older Slytherins, one was a familiar blond boy with a pointed face, sneering down at her. The other two might have been part troll. "Do you know who I am?" inquired the blond, as the other two glared down at her. Again, a thought bubbled to the surface of Frisk's mind.

 _That's little Draco._

"You're Draco Malfoy," Frisk said, pulling his last name from the embroidery on his robe. "Ch... no, seeker for the Slytherin team, right?"

Draco seemed surprised, and a bit flattered, but nodded in acknowledgment. "And you are Frisk Dreemurr. I have some... advice for you," he drawled. "Stay away from Slytherin students. I know what you're planning, you're looking for someone to spy on us for Gryffindor. Don't even try it."

 _His family was devoted to Voldemort... but to each other even more._

That was interesting, but not particularly helpful at the moment. "I just saw someone who needed help, Draco," Frisk said, softly. "Do you really believe that only a Slytherin would help another of your house? I don't even care about your Quidditch game."

"Don't lie to me, first year," Draco said, threateningly, and the two lackeys behind him stepped up closer, looking down menacingly at Frisk. "There's only one reason a Gryffindor would step in front of another Gryffindor, though... I will give you that it was a very clever plan."

"Is the idea that someone might genuinely care about a Slytherin being bullied that impossible to you?" Frisk asked softly. The fact that it even seemed possible horrified her. Had the rivalry between them and Gryffindor gotten that bad?

The main door opened with a loud click, as Professor Sprout came in from the greenhouses. She took in the scene quickly, focusing on Malfoy with a quick, "What's going on here?"

"Nothing, Professor," said Malfoy sullenly, and his two lackeys slunk off.

"Really?" Professor Sprout said with an eyebrow raised. "What was really going on, Frisk?" she asked as Malfoy retreated into the great hall.

"Malfoy thought I was trying to befriend Steven Marsh to spy on Slytherin for my house," Frisk said. Saying it aloud didn't make it sound any more sensible to her. "I think he was trying to threaten me. But I'm not going to let him stop me."

"I'd hope not," the herbology teacher told her. "But are you sure, Frisk? You look like you've been crying."

Frisk blinked, and reached up to wipe her eyes. Sure enough, they felt damp, and Frisk had no idea why. She'd seen far more frightening things than a couple of bullies during her time in the underground. "I'm sure, Professor. I'm not going to give up on people like that."

Professor Sprout's smile still showed a bit of concern, but she didn't pursue it any further. "I'll have a word with Professor Snape, then. Thank you, Frisk."

Frisk expressed her own thanks, and went off for lunch. But she had appeared to have upset the natural order of Hogwarts. Apparently, someone had even complained to McGonagall, because she took time out of Wednesday's transfiguration class to specifically point out that Frisk had the right to make friends with anyone in the school she chose to. "And I do not want to hear that anyone is continuing to make an issue of it. Am I perfectly clear?"

That put a stop to most of it, as Gryffindor was more concerned about actual Slytherins than someone who befriended one of them. Steven might have been the first bullying target, but he certainly wasn't the last, and it didn't seem like the rivals for the Hogwarts Quidditch Cup were intending to simply settle it on the field.

With everything else that had gone on, Frisk had asked Steven to meet the others in the history of magic classroom that evening. She'd moved the desks in the room around to create a six-person circle. Steven was the first to arrive, and they'd started by discussing the increasing hostility between their houses. "All of this over a quidditch match?" Frisk complained, "How could a single game, even a championship game, be worth this?"

"It'd actually be worse if there was no quidditch," Steven told her, to Frisk's stare of disbelief. "No, really. This is all because Harry Potter attacked Draco Malfoy in Hogsmeade. The Slytherins are mad about the coddling and want to take it out on him."

"It was a snowball," said a cold voice from the doorway. Frisk and Steven turned, and saw Ron and Harry openly glaring at Steven. "What is he doing here?"

Steven's eyes flicked up to the scar on Harry's forehead and turned beet red. "I offered to help," he mumbled, staring down at his shoes. "She said she needed help."

"We don't need _his_ help," Ron said hotly, still standing in the doorway.

"What?" Hermione asked, peering between the two boys. "Is Draco in there?" Luna, Ginny, and Opal, in short order, appeared behind them, forcing Harry and Ron into the room proper. This didn't improve the mood, though. "Oh," Hermione said when she entered. "Steven, isn't it? You were the Slytherin that was being bullied by Cormac, right? Frisk told me about it."

"Ron," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "You can't judge the entire house because of one person, or even their quidditch team. Fine, maybe _you_ could. But you shouldn't."

"I still think he's some sort of spy," Ron said stubbornly.

"I unders..." mumbled Steven, pushing himself up from the desk he was sitting at.

"Draco thought the same thing," Frisk interrupted. "This isn't some sort of scheme... from any of us. I trust him. I don't think either of us looking for some sort of quidditch spy."

Ron looked embarrassed to be compared to Malfoy like that. Steven sat back down, the others came in, sitting as well. Only Ron and Harry remained standing.

"Draco's a self-important git," Steven admitted, raising his head. He still avoided Harry's eyes. "He's got his clique, but a lot of us ignore him."

"Then why do Slytherins want revenge for Hogsmeade?" Harry demanded. "It was just snowballs. If he's that much of a git, I'd think they'd want to throw one too."

"You've met Malfoy, right?" Steven said, "Do you think he'd said he'd been hit with snowballs? He said you just appeared out of nowhere to throw rocks at them, and Crabbe and Goyle backed him up. I mean, think about it; you sneaked out of Hogwarts, you ambushed Malfoy, and you didn't even get a detention out of it."

"What's the problem?" Luna asked, cocking her head, "Are they jealous that Harry's better at being a Slytherin then they are?" Steven tried to suppress a giggle, but failed.

But Frisk felt her stomach drop. "How much of that is true, Harry?" Frisk asked.

"They were snowballs, not rocks," Harry insisted. The tint in Harry's face suggested there was something else to it, but he left no clue what it would be. He also didn't deny anything else.

"You should apologize for scaring him," Frisk said. She knew exactly what she was about to get into, but it didn't matter. It was the same cycle that was happening between the houses.

"Apologize?" Harry said in total disbelief, "To Malfoy? That git? He ran straight to his protector, Snape, trying to get me into trouble. You must be joking. Malfoy deserved it."

Steven looked like he was going to add something, then thought better of it, like he didn't want to get involved in this row. Ginny leaned over and touched him on the shoulder. "Go ahead. We're listening."

"He said the same thing about you," Steven mumbled, "How you were saved by Lupin, your own personal protector. How anyone not biased would have done something to punish you. But you got off untouched. Because you're the Gryffindor golden boy."

There was a very unhappy silence for several seconds. Opal finally broke it, "I think it'd be easier to be sympathetic to Malfoy if he wasn't taunting Harry over his weaknesses elsewhere. Do you remember the first Quidditch match? When the dementors showed up? I seem to remember you running down to the field. Then what happens in the next one? Malfoy shows up dressed a dementor."

"Or even in potions, just the class afterward," Hermione added. "Malfoy spent the whole class taunting Harry for losing his broom, and Snape didn't say a word."

Ginny looked uncomfortable, and Frisk had a good guess about what she was thinking. Draco's father had given her a cursed diary They didn't know if Mr. Malfoy had known it was going to try to kill Ginny, only that it would 'Open the Chamber of Secrets'. None of that actually mattered. Children are not their parents, and they were pretty sure Draco had no idea what had gone on.

Frisk looked at the floor, just for a moment. This miscommunication and rivalry felt all too familiar. It was just like going through the whole Underground with the monsters thinking she was a threat. They became some of her closest friends and family, but what if they hadn't? What if she had gotten mad and fought back to some of those who had really wanted to hurt her, like Mad Dummy or Undyne? It would have been a bad time. For everyone.

"So where does it stop?" Frisk asked. "Will it keep just going until someone gets hurt? Killed? And Draco might be a jerk, but that doesn't mean we have to be one too."

"Draco deserved it," Hermione said, though her voice was tinged with guilt. Frisk cocked her head, puzzled. "He was going on and on about how 'pathetic' Professor Hagrid was. You were going to hit him first if I didn't," she looked at Harry and Ron to back her up.

"I still can't believe you did that," Ron admitted. "And you might be right, though I think everyone was there was stunned."

"And if he hit you back?" Opal asked, "How bad of a brawl is it, the three of you against him, and his two bodyguards?"

"Wait, what happened?" Frisk asked.

"You didn't know?" Opal asked. "Hermione slugged Draco, a few weeks ago."

Frisk simply stared.

"So what's your suggestion?" Harry asked. He had very carefully kept his voice neutral, and Frisk was pretty sure she was on thin ice. Being nice to monsters was easier than with stubborn wizards, it seemed.

Frisk thought for a second. "Do it in private... maybe with Steven there," she started. "If he doesn't accept, and you don't think he will, then you will have done what you could. If he's still trollish, then you'll know that you're better than he was."

Harry stared at Frisk's determined expression, perhaps trying to gaze how serious she was. "I'll think about it," he said finally. Then he sat down. Frisk gave a mental sigh of relief.

There was quiet for another space, "So," Ron asked Steven. "If you don't look up to people like Malfoy, who do you look up to?"

"Me?" Steven asked. "There's two. Winston Churchill." He looked at the surprised looks around the room. "The muggle politician, that's right. But he was clever enough to know what was going on Germany, what kind of person was really in charge over there, and above all, what to say and how to say it to people to get it done. He did what was necessary at the darkest part of muggle history. The other is Batman."

"Wait," Hermione said, laughing, "Batman? He's a master detective! He has to be a Ravenclaw."

"Oh, come on," Steven protested. "He disappeared for ten years for the ambition of being stronger than any criminal, and he's cunning enough to outwit them, too. If that's not a Slytherin, I don't know what is."

"He does it because he cares about everyone," Opal put in, "He does it so nobody else has to suffer like he did. He belongs with Hufflepuff."

"No way," Harry said, "Jumping into overwhelming odds, going toe to toe with superheroes because it's the right thing to do, that's Gryffindor."

Ron stared at the group blankly. "Who's Batman?"

* * *

At breakfast, on the Friday before Easter break, Percy Weasley arrived with a note that Headmaster Dumbledore wished to meet with Frisk after dinner. This cheered up Frisk no end. And apparently, that wasn't the only mail that was delivered that day. A few minutes after the owls dropped the various pieces of post throughout the hall, Ron and Ginny came up behind Frisk.

"It came," Ron said without preamble. Ginny's face had that mixture of hope and terror that was normally reserved for seeing one's exam scores, and Ron didn't look any calmer. He held up a thick envelope addressed to "Ronald Weasley, Hogwarts Great Hall".

Frisk silently reached into a pocket, and produced her dad's Swiss army knife. She found the letter opener, and handed it over to Ron.

Ron, his hands shaking, cut the envelope open as carefully as he could, then returned the knife to Frisk. He reached in, and pulled the long piece of paper out. "It's in Mum's handwriting," he said, and his expression fell.

"Oh no," Ginny said, and Frisk remembered that they'd been utterly convinced she wouldn't say yes that they'd written to their dad instead. "What's she say?" she asked.

"That this caused a long row with Dad," Ron said, reading the letter slowly. "He wanted to let us, saying we should trust Dumbledore, but that she wouldn't hear of it. We're only kids, and that we think we're invincible, and that we have no idea what we're risking."

"I'm sorry, Frisk," Ginny said, closing her eyes.

"Wait, Ginny, there's more," Ron said. "She says they had to argue about it several times. Finally, he came home with a copy of The Quibbler, and while she would not..." Ron looked around for Luna, but she wasn't nearby, "normally read such rubbish, she did read the interview with your mum. And she was astounded that they were so much alike, how it felt to lose two children, and how much she cared for them."

"In the end," Ron continued, "She says Dad played dirty. He said how he was glad nobody told Harry Potter that 'he had no idea what he was risking when Ginny was lost in the Chamber of Secrets'." He lifted his gaze to his sister, and then Frisk, his eyes were as wide as the plates breakfast was being served on. "She says to be sure to bring Asriel home... and to come home ourselves," he reached into the envelope, pulling out the two signed forms. "I'll go give these to Dumbledore, right now!"

"Wait for me, Ron!" Ginny exclaimed, racing afterward. She raced so quickly, that she bumped into Neville, who was returning to breakfast after visiting the staff table himself.

"Five down," Frisk whispered to nobody in particular. "Two to go."

That evening, Frisk went to the Gargoyle on the second floor, and was prompted for the password. "Creme Egg," Frisk said, and the Gargoyle leaped aside.

"The others have already arrived," it told her, as she ascended the spiral stairwell into the headmaster's study. When she emerged, she saw the headmaster, an older gentleman that could only be Kurt Kairos of the Department of Mysteries, and, to her surprise, Hermione Granger.

"Oh good," Professor Dumbledore said, "We are all here. Frisk, you need to know that Kurt has been to meet with your friend Sans, and they have been to visit the underground. What can you tell us, Kurt?"

"That Sans is an incorrigible punster and prankster. He's unlike any other magical being I've met, and I'm glad I can call him a friend," Mr. Kairos told them, "His machine is a thing of wonder, I think if he'd had more help to work on it, and possibly a few more years, that he'd have made a time machine strictly on muggle technology, which I didn't think was possible. But while it's going to take more time," Kurt paused, and Frisk gave an appreciative giggle, "I think we have something that will do exactly what you want it to. But there's a problem. There's only so much weight it can take and have it remain stable. One adult, and maybe a child."

Frisk caught the implications. "But... but I want to bring back," she stammered out.

"As Professor Dumbledore said, you wanted to bring, of all things, a corpse from the past. The only way you're going to do that is by sending one child, possibly two." Hermione looked slightly sickened at that statement.

"Which is why," the headmaster explained, "I've asked Ms. Granger up here tonight. She was asking for a way to help this foray, and Ms. Granger is a calm, bright young woman that you will need for a mission such as this."

Hermione turned from slightly green to slightly pink, "Thank you, headmaster,"

"But, that brings us to the next question," Professor Dumbledore. "What did you find in the sunlit room?"

"Ah, yes, the grave," Mr. Kairos said, and Hermione blanched. "I had to do that bit alone. Sans said the room had a resident that really ought to be kept from seeing what we were doing. Not sure what he did with him, but I never saw him. Anyway, I dug up..."

"You dug up a grave?" Hermione asked, "That... can't be a good idea. Is it even legal?"

"As it turns out," Mr. Kairos said, "It wasn't a grave at all," he pulled out a bag, and dropped it on the headmaster's desk. It was a collection of what appeared to be different types of bandages, some wool, some plastic, some linen. "I also found what seems to have been a wand," he said, placing a holly stave on the table. "You'd have to ask Ollivander what the core was, but I think it's gone to sleep from boredom. And the third thing," he indicated what looked like a large doll that had been propped in the corner, "Looks like a healer's practice doll. I'd need to wake the wand, and a Prior Incantato to be sure, but there's some signs it'd been transfigured before. If I had to guess, the wand was powering that transfiguration, until it grew bored and went to sleep."

"What I did not find," he said ruefully, "was any sort of body," and so saying, he reached into his pocket and dropped four candy bars on the desk. "So I lose. And only you, Dumbledore, would put a couple of galleons against an American muggle candy bar. So here they are, four Almond Joys, like you asked."

"Oh, good, that's one for each of us," Dumbledore said, smiling. "One for you too, Kurt, go ahead, tear in. I can't wait to try mine."

Hermione and Frisk exchanged glances, but took the offered candy bars. Frisk unwrapped hers and bit in. It had coconut, and reminded Frisk of a Bounty bar, except that it had nuts.

"Does that mean," Hermione asked, swallowing a bite of her chocolate. "The reason that you didn't find a corpse, was that we've... well, already taken it with us, in time?"

"At the very least, someone buried a wand there a long while back for us to find," Mr. Kairos confirmed. "And Sans said he checked it out with the queen, there should have been a body there. So I think she buried a transfigured duplicate."

"Looks like you get your wish, Frisk," Dumbledore said, beaming at her. "Kurt, how long do you think it will take to get that machine working?"

"I'm still not convinced it's a good idea," Mr. Kairos told them, "but it looks like it's already been done, and I don't want to cause a paradox myself. So... two months? End of term?"

"There you go, Frisk, if I have all six forms in by then, there is over a full day between exams and the trip home. That is a perfect day for your quest, I think."

"We have four," Frisk confirmed, "And I'm hoping Steven will be the fifth. But do you have any suggestions for whom the sixth person should be?"

"I do not," the headmaster said, but the full smile didn't leave his face, "but I think you'll be fine, Ms. Dreemurr. And Ms. Granger, would you be willing to escort Frisk here back in time, to retrieve the soul of young Asriel, and the body and soul of young Chara?"

"I will! I mean, I am," Hermione said, smiling at Frisk, who smiled her appreciation back.

"Excellent," Professor Dumbledore said. "Then, I must ask you two to head back to your common room. "Me and Mr. Kairos have some other things to discuss this evening. Thank you for your time."

"And thank you, Mr. Kairos," Frisk said, "for everything," She walked over to shake his hand, before heading down the spiral staircase.

The thought that she might be able to rescue Asriel and Chara had filled her with determination.


	19. All Sorts of Surprises

Easter break had finally come to Hogwarts, but to listen to the common room complain, it wasn't much of a break. In fact, as she came back after breakfast on the Saturday after classes, she saw something she'd never seen: Fred and George Weasley with open textbooks.

Since she didn't have as much homework as the others, one of the few advantages of being a first year, she had been drafted to help Ron work on the appeal of Buckbeak the hippogriff. She finally had been told what happened, how Draco had insulted the proud creature, and gotten his arm broken as a result. The Slytherin was lording the upcoming execution over the care of Magical Creatures professor, as well as Harry and his friends.

And much like the caretaker, Mr. Filch, Frisk wondered exactly what had happened to Draco, if his soul had been damaged in some way. But he did, at least, seem to talk to his fellow Slytherins, and she never saw him without his lackeys... but she wasn't confident that they were really friends. So if Harry didn't actually apologize to Draco, she wasn't going to press the issue, even if she did thin k they should be better than their antagonist.

As the calendar had passed into April, it had finally gotten warm enough that she was able to spend more time with some of the others outdoors. One day, Steven had joined her, Opal, Luna, and Ginny under the watchful eye of Madam Hooch. On that day, Frisk attempted to prove how far she'd gotten by engaging in quaffle throwing.

To her surprise, she found that having the ball to throw actually made flying easier. It kept her from remembering just how far it was to the ground, and once she was no longer reminding herself of that, she had a much easier time balancing. Which isn't to say she didn't nearly fall, because she did, but she enjoyed the time more than she normally did.

"It's been fun to watch your dedication," Madam Hooch said. "You've turned into at least a, well, a reasonable flier. If only they matched your aiming and throwing skills, I'd think you might make an excellent chaser. Alas."

"So much for my dreams of Quidditch stardom, I guess," Frisk said, grinning. "But thank you for taking a day of your break to be out watching us."

Madam Hooch smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "I have to be out here with Mr. Potter anyway," she said, nodding to the nearby Gryffindor team practice. "Oh, but I love watching him with that Firebolt. Such a magnificent broom. I've heard that several of the national teams have switched to Firebolts for the Quidditch World Cup."

Frisk continued to listen, because it was always fun to listen to someone with real passion for a subject talk about their joy. Now, if only they could get someone with that same passion for History of Magic, instead of a ghost who was convinced she was someone he taught three hundred years ago... like Napstablook was with his music.

When classes resumed the next Monday, the tension that had been building over the week between Gryffindor and Slytherin spilled out of the common rooms. Steven might have been the first person bullied in the Hogwarts halls, but he certainly wasn't the last. Frisk tried to be the voice of reason whenever she could, but usually the best she could do was point out the portraits were always watching, and keep out of the way of flying jinxes.

She saw more than her share of aftereffects of curse and revenge curse between classes, but the absolute strangest was on the Thursday of that week. Professor Sprout had, after Herbology, asked her to take a spray bottle full of liquid up to Madam Pomfrey. The request took Frisk by surprise, but the professor said she was the one the healer trusted the most.

"Why? Is this some kind of dangerous potion?" Frisk had asked, eying the bottle skeptically.

"No, it's weed killer," the professor told her. She shook her head and gave Frisk a wry smile. "You'll see."

And Frisk did see. Madam Pomfrey only let in Frisk after seeing who was at the hospital door. Frisk had to promise, again, not to repeat what she saw to anyone else. And that was probably for the best. Just how do you explain, after all, that she'd seen two very unhappy students with leeks growing out of their ears?

So she was a bit behind the majority of the Gryffindors that came into Defense Against the Dark Arts that afternoon. Which meant she was among the last to realize that, for a second time, Lupin was not at the teacher's desk. Instead, there was a woman with a warm smile, green eyes, and white fur... "Mom!" Frisk said in shock. Any sense of decorum was lost, she dropped her school bag in the doorway, and raced to embrace her adopted mother. Her mom returned the embrace, gently, before disentangling herself from her adopted daughter.

There was a brief titter of amusement through the Gryffindors, but Frisk didn't care. The sound of someone older clearing his throat, on the other hand, got her attention. She stepped back and looked around. There, sitting next to a pale looking Professor Lupin, was a smiling Headmaster Dumbledore.

Frisk turned the scarlet of her Gryffindor scarf, retrieved her school bag, and took her seat.

"I seem to have been upstaged," Lupin said, and his soft voice was even softer than usual, but he was smiling. Frisk stammered through an apology to the professor. "As I am coming down with something," Lupin said, acknowledging Frisk with a nod, "The Headmaster has invited one of the 'Monsters' formerly trapped behind the Mt. Ebott barrier to give a guest lecture, and allow all of us to learn more about them. So, please allow me to introduce Ms. Toriel Dreemurr. I trust you will treat her with the same respect you give to me."

"Thank you, Professor Lupin," Toriel began. "While monsters come in all shapes and sizes, we have been, like wizards and witches, classified as magical beings..."

While Frisk knew everything that Toriel went through, she couldn't help but to listen transfixed. She knew her mother had always wanted to be a teacher, but this is the first time she'd realized just how good she would be at it. She managed to keep the entire classes attention throughout the period, pausing to ask questions (but not let Frisk answer them) when she thought they could answer them. She even managed to remember names, something Frisk had struggled with off and on with the entire year.

While there was no mention of soul magic, which didn't really surprise her, Toriel did demonstrate her innate skill at conjuring fire, by lighting a candle. "My friend Undyne can conjure straight force, which I cannot do." It was still no substitute for wand magic, something that Toriel said she had been forbidden from exploring for herself or other monsters. That was the one time Toriel's smile had slipped, but she'd recovered quickly.

After class, Frisk waited patiently as the rest of Gryffindor filed out to have a chance to talk to her mother. "So, what do you think, Headmaster Dumbledore?" Toriel asked politely.

"I think you did very well," he responded, his eyes twinkling. "Professor Lupin has told me that you've performed similarly during the previous classes, so I hope that you will continue to be able to lecture the remaining classes tomorrow."

"It would be my honor, and my pleasure," Toriel told him, trying, and not quite succeeding, to not show just how excited she was to the headmaster. "You've given me a chance to do something I've always wanted to do."

Frisk's happiness for her mother was tempered by Lupin's appearance. He looked sick. Was it that phase of the moon? Was that what was doing it? "I hope you feel better, Professor Lupin," she told him.

"Thank you, Frisk. Your daughter is an extremely compassionate individual, Ms. Toriel," Lupin told her. "She has been a real pleasure to have in my class." Toriel beamed at her.

"I apologize, Frisk," the headmaster said. He shifted his gaze between Frisk and Toriel, "I must speak to your mother privately for a little bit. She should have time after dinner tonight, at least, if she would like to join us at the staff table. If Frisk thought her mom was excited before, she was practically glowing now.

"Okay." Frisk said, nodding to the two teachers, and if wasn't for them, would have probably given her mother another hug. Instead, "How about we meet in the entrance hall after dinner, it should be relatively quiet there," This seemed to be agreed, at least, nobody told her no, so she headed out to drop off her bag in her room before dinner.

But as she left she heard Dumbledore ask. "Is it true that Frisk was risking her soul to save the monsters underground?"

Frisk flattened herself outside the door to listen in.

"It is, kind of." Toriel admitted. "I tried my best to stop it from happening. She wasn't risking her soul the same way you would around dementors, but monster soul magic is what it is. King Asgore, and his guard, were collecting human souls to break the barrier. When it was broken, however that happened, they were gone, wherever human souls go, I guess."

"How do you feel about that?" Dumbledore pressed. "Would you let her do it again, if you had to?"

"To save people? Save people she hadn't even met? I hope so. I am so proud of her, and so happy she was willing to stay with me..."

Frisk realized what Dumbledore had just done, and slipped away, grinning to herself. Now she really could count herself. But she really did have to get her bag put away, and she wanted to find the others, especially Opal, Ginny, and Luna, to introduce them to her mother.

As it turned out, that wasn't very hard. There was only two conversation topics over dinner, the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch final (being given as a toss-up. Gryffindor was the stronger side, but Slytherin had the advantage going into the final), and that Dumbledore has invited a monster to lecture. From what she overheard about Toriel, though, from the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs around her, suggested they'd really enjoyed the lesson. "I wanted to tell you over lunch," Opal, who was sitting behind her, admitted. "I had Defense this morning, but she asked me not to."

Frisk looked up to the staff table, where she seemed to be having a good conversation with Professor Flitwick. "I guess she wanted it to be a surprise. It worked, too," Frisk admitted, "I was certainly surprised. I hope I didn't embarrass her in front of Dumbledore."

"It was a bit unexpected," said Kevin Duncan, who was sitting next to her. "But I don't know how I would have reacted had my mum showed up in the middle of my school day."

Frisk carefully watched the staff table, and when it was clear her mom was done eating, she pulled her friends along, ready to introduce them all. They gathered in the entrance hall, and Frisk introduced them one by one: Opal, her personal flying instructor, Steven, her new potions partner, Luna, her most insightful friend, and of course, Ginny, without whom she'd have never have made it to Hogwarts.

Her mom personally greeted them all, right back. "Some of you I've had the chance to meet in class, the rest of you, I'm looking forward to it." They talked for a short time, before the students had to get back to their respective common rooms for curfew. "And thank you for being good friends with Frisk, she's spoken so well of all of you. It's a pleasure to meet you at last."

* * *

The quidditch final was that weekend, and Frisk spent breakfast insisting she really didn't care to attend the match. "I know it's for the cup," Frisk said. "I just don't actually care about quidditch!" In fact, it was hard not to feel sorry for the Slytherin team. It seemed almost everyone in both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had lined up against them too, and here was Harry showing off his Firebolt like it was some sort of trophy. Were sports really supposed to be about the tools?

But she was dragged to match by Opal and Ginny anyway. Once the game had started, the horrible sportsmanship that the Slytherin side was demonstrating was making it really hard not to actively root against them. On the other hand, the interplay between the seekers was the best of any match she'd seen. It'd probably have taken Hermione's dentist parents to extract it from Ginny, but Malfoy was actually a pretty good seeker. That said, Harry had a better broom (unfair), and adeptly skilled at realizing each trick Malfoy was trying to escape his stalker and blocking him out of it (fair). Frisk's sympathy vanished completely when Malfoy grabbed on to Harry's broom.

When it was all over, and pandemonium was reigning for Gryffindor house (even Hermione had gotten in on it), Frisk couldn't help but notice how dejected the Slytherin house members looked. She supposed that was the thing about sports, there'd always be winners and losers. "Don't feel bad for them, Frisk," Opal told her, as the rest of the Gryffindor dogpiled the team. "The Slytherins won at least the last two years running. If you want to feel bad for someone, Hufflepuff's quidditch team could use the sympathy. We've been in the basement for at least that long."

The party in the common room went on the rest of the evening and well into the night. For a change, no rat, nor attack, nor even a complaining head of house spoiled the party. Even Hermione had given up trying to study, and had joined in with full fervor.

That Sunday, as a majority of Gryffindor slept in, and slept off the party, Frisk found herself in a less busy great hall than normal. As the owls swept through, dropping their mail, Frisk began to once again, think about who she should be asking for her seventh person. But each person she thought of, she discarded. She was so focused that she didn't notice Steven coming up behind her until he tapped her on the shoulder, causing Frisk to let out a "Yipe!" of surprise, and several Gryffindors to look around to see what the issue was.

"Oh," she told him. "Sorry, Steven, I didn't see you there. How are you?" she said, her heart rate slowly returning to normal.

"I've got my form signed," he said, holding out an envelope, smiling at her.

"Did your parents say anything?"

"Only that they trusted me to have thought what I was doing through," he told her. "Otherwise, they didn't think Dumbledore would let us do anything truly dangerous, and it was a privilege to be asked. My parents don't have a large circle of friends, but are very close to the ones they do have. They believe Slytherin have to be loyal their own, because nobody else will. So they encourage me to be very loyal to the friends I do have."

"Are there any loyal friends that we could ask to be our seventh?" Frisk asked, as a bleary-eyed Ginny sat down across from her, searching for pumpkin juice.

"No, and I think it's a bad time to ask. You'd think someone died in the dungeons last night," Steven said.

"I'm sorry, Steven. It's just that exams are what, a month or so away now? And I'm starting to run out of time, and I still only have six..."

 **Whap!** A piece of paper was swatted down on the table near Frisk, causing her orange juice to wobble dangerously. Frisk blinked at it for a moment before realizing what it was: One of Dumbledore's permission slips. As she reached the bottom, she realized it had been signed: Augusta Longbottom. As Frisk looked around in astonishment, her eyes rose to meet the eyes of Neville, the proudest she'd ever seen him. "You have seven," he told her.

"How?" she managed to get out, as Steven and Ginny both stared at him.

"Hermione told me, Frisk. I was sitting next to Ron when his came, and I asked her if she knew what it was he was so excited about," he told her. "But, why didn't you ask me? You could have, you know."

"Because," Frisk said, feeling her face turning red, "I didn't want you to feel like you were in my debt. My help doesn't come with a price tag."

"Neither does mine, Frisk," Neville said.

Frisk stood suddenly and hugged Neville, much to his surprise. There was some laughter at Neville's shock, but nobody was paying that much attention to them.

"Besides," Neville said, "Gran was so excited. She included a long letter about how both Mum and Dad would have been proud of me, and she's sure of it. Because she was proud of me." He looked up at the staff table. "Dumbledore is here, we should go take them up." Steven, Frisk, and Neville all headed up.

The topper for Neville, Frisk was sure, came that evening, as he was moping outside the portrait hole entrance to Gryffindor tower that evening. Frisk was running to help him get into the tower, but it was, of all people, Professor McGonagall who beat her there.

She looked at him, smiled and said, "The password is Carpe Diem, Mister Longbottom. And you have done so, admirably. _"_


	20. Finals Decision

The calendar had reached the end of May, and both final exams and the trip afterward were beginning to look very close, chronologically speaking. Frisk wanted to have one longer meeting with the group. Hermione had wanted Dumbledore to attend with them, but he wasn't available. "Why not Professor Lupin?" the headmaster had suggested. "He speaks highly of you, and I certainly trust him. I will let him know what you are doing, and that it has my full support." This was how, despite the protests of certain studious students, Frisk had gotten the group, all nine of them, in the defense against the dark classroom.

Neville was the last to arrive, puffing as if he'd been running hard. "I didn't forget," he insisted as he sat down in one of the chairs, joining the others.

Frisk stood, with her back to the teacher, feeling small with all eyes on her. "I know people want to be studying..."

"I'm not sure why," mumbled Ron. "It's such a nice day outside."

"So I'll try to make this quick," Frisk continued, giving Ron a quick grin. "But for the people who haven't seen it before, I'd like to demonstrate monster soul magic, and maybe try to see if you can learn it yourself."

Hermione, who was fidgeting until that statement, suddenly focused on Frisk with wide excited eyes. "How do you get your soul to manifest itself like that?"

Frisk blinked at her vehemence. "Your soul is the culmination of all that you are. All your hopes, your fears, your friendships, and your dreams. It's how you connect with other people. It's not enough to just focus on those things, you have to be willing to show them to others, to expose your soul to the world." There was more to it than that, it was like... tensing a muscle you didn't know that you had, or maybe like riding a bicycle. But if you had help doing it once or twice, or several dozen times, it became something you could do yourself.

As she finished speaking, she concentrated on doing just that. As always, the red light of Frisk's own soul blossomed into view. Around the room, the souls of her classmates and friends followed suit. Luna's was first, her dark blue soul blazed into visibility almost as quickly as Frisk's did. Opal's light blue soul was next, followed by Ginny's green soul and Harry's red one (Frisk, who knew to look for it, saw the brief appearance of the black invasive... whatever it was). A second or so later, Ron's orange soul emerged, as bright as the fruit itself. And after a few more moments, Hermione and Steven's purple soul, and to probably nobody's greater surprise than Neville himself, a yellow one.

"Is there any risk to putting your soul on display like that?" came Lupin's soft voice from the corner.

"Uhm," Frisk said stalling. She'd never actually thought about that. "Normally, your soul is protected by your physical body. So, I certainly wouldn't want to put it on display if I thought there might be a risk to it. Other than that? I have no idea."

"Does that mean," Hermione asked, "That monsters have a greater risk to their souls, as their body is partially magically?"

"Maybe," Frisk admitted. It made sense, in a terrible she-didn't-want-to-think-of-it sort of way.

"Will souls always respond in that way?" Lupin continued. "By revealing themselves if someone else is showing theirs?"

"Mine always did in the underground," Frisk said, but just as she said that, both Hermione's and Steven's souls blinked out.

"Like Frisk said," Hermione explained, "You have to want to show your soul. I think all of us, on some level at least, wanted to. I just focused myself on wanting to be protected from others and it did." She looked at Frisk. "Maybe monsters have more practice calling out souls than you do."

"That seems reasonable," Lupin said, and Frisk agreed. She never intended to attack anyone through the soul, or by any other method, anyway. "Now," Lupin asked Hermione and Steven, "Can you call it back again?"

Neither of them managed it quickly. Hermione managed it first, and then Steven was able to reveal his soul again too. "It helps that there are others around," he admitted. "I don't know if I could do this without help. What does the purple mean, again?"

"The monsters said it meant someone who would 'Persevere'... but I don't know," Frisk said. "The purple soul I knew was a note taker and someone who knew the value of words... both to attack, and help others feel better," Frisk said, thinking back to her fight with... that giant plant thing that Flowey had turned into. "But Steven... you don't have to hide from me... us. Not ever."

"Not even if I want to be Minister of Magic someday?" Steven asked.

"A pretty big dream for someone in their first year of Hogwarts," Lupin said, with his wistful smile, "But that is, as Headmaster Dumbledore would tell you, why we dream. And it is nothing to be ashamed of."

"We're bringing back someone from being a soulless flower," Ginny said. "That seems simple by a comparison. So why not?"

"Thank you," Steven said.

"And yellow?" asked Neville, nervously.

"Justice," Frisk told him. They made eye contact. Frisk still didn't know what had happened to his parents. But Frisk would swear that, in the end, was what drove him. "Now the real question is," Frisk said, "Now that you know how to do it, can you do it on your own?" She let her concentration lapse, and one by one, the lights of her friends winked out. Except for Luna's, which continued to bathe the room is a deep dark blue light. She turned to Luna. "Can you focus just a bit harder? See if you can draw the others out?"

"Oh... I wasn't really thinking about it," Luna admitted, turning her unfocused gaze on Frisk. "But I'll try for you." She held her hands in front of her, the same way she had on the train, giving the appearance that she was holding her floating soul within them, and closed her eyes.

The difference became apparent after just a few seconds, Frisk could feel the subtle call on her soul, it was the same call she'd felt so many times underground, though not nearly as strong. Frisk allowed herself to be caught up in that call, and let her soul be brought up to the surface with the rest of them.

They went around the room after that. While some, like Opal, managed it after about twenty seconds, it took others almost a full minute. Everyone could, eventually, manage to call up the others, but almost nobody matched Luna for speed. Except Frisk, who could almost do it just about at will.

"I think that's all pretty impressive," Lupin said, "But I think Frisk has taken enough time from your studying for finals. After all, when it comes time for it, you will all have support of each other, right?"

"We will," promised Ron, and the others echoed his sentiment.

The agreement filled Frisk with determination.

* * *

Finals week, on the other hand, did not fill Frisk with determination.

The potions final began with a written test. Said exam contained everything from having to remember uses of belladonna, to how to properly handle dittany. She had to list some of the antidotes to common poisons, and describe how to safely clean up a spill of dragon's blood. It ended with, naturally, trying to brew a potion from memory.

This part of the final she simply didn't understand. Her mother, even when she had made a dish a dozen times before, still referred back to her recipes. And these potions were a lot more dangerous than a batch of cookies that got the proportions of sugar mistaken. Why try to remember how to make a potion from scratch?

As hinted in an earlier class, the potion in question was the forgetfulness potion. Frisk spent a few seconds trying to remember if this classified as 'Ironic', but that didn't matter. What did matter was that she get the potion right... and she might have. At least, the blue potion was the most common color in the rainbow of bottles that were put on Snape's desk for grading.

The test she felt best about was Charms. It was practical only, so outside the charms room, Frisk gathered with the rest of the first year Gryffindors. They were called in one at a time to demonstrate their skill with various charms. "You're up Frisk," Laura told her. Frisk swallowed, and walked with as much confidence as she could muster into the Charms classroom. The first thing she saw as she came in was Flitwick, sitting on his stool.

"Let's see you start by levitating that rock," he said, in his high-pitched voice. After her experiences in potions, she was nervous about this. She could remember the charm, but the hand holding her wand was shaking. "Do, or do not," he told her, "There is no try."

Frisk was about to try casting her charm, when she realized exactly what he said and stared at him in surprise, before breaking out laughing.

"Muggles can tell some good stories too, you know. Besides, I had a relative in the third film." Flitwick told her, winking. "Now, we'll start over. Go ahead and levitate the rock."

Frisk took a second to calm down, but the surprise joke put her in good spirits, and she calmly levitated rocks, opened locks, and relocked them. She used "Repairo" on a broken pair of glasses, and lit a candle with the fire making charm.

"And finally," the professor said, and jumped down from his stool. He reached down behind his desk, and put a pineapple on top of it. "Give it some dancing feet."

Frisk focused her mind, pointed her wand, gestured, and called out, "Tarantula!" Frisk was rewarded by seeing the pineapple merrily tap its way across Flitwick's desk... until it reached the edge and unceremoniously toppled to the ground.

"Bravo," Flitwick said. "I don't think I can ask for anything else, Ms. Dreemurr. Well done. Go ahead and see yourself out. Please have," he consulted a piece of paper, "Mr. Wilcox in here next. And good luck in the rest of your exams."

Frisk could have danced in a way that would have made Mettaton proud on her way out of Charms, but instead she just held her head up high as she told Walter he was up for testing, and promised herself that she'd do no more studying until after dinner.

The next day was transfiguration (her mouse-snuff box was a very plain white, but at least it didn't have whiskers), and the history of magic final. The less said about history of magic, the better. "If self-stirring cauldrons were that important," complained Kevin, once they were safely down the hall, "We'd use them in potions." She wished, not for the first time, that they had a better professor for the subject. Though she wasn't sure how he was going to collect and grade the papers... maybe the other teachers did that?

In the Herbology practical, they dealt with echo flowers, puffapods, and for the second time, Dittany. And, for all her complaints about golden flower nightmares, Frisk did well in Herbology. The exam, which she took in the great hall, went reasonably well too. She was pretty sure, when she got her grades back, even Dad would have no complaints.

She had the Astronomy final that night. Producing a same night star chart might have been practical, but it wasn't high on her list of interesting activities. This was something she'd practiced, and got most of it filled in within the time limit. Still, it was rote memorization, and that was something she wasn't confident in.

The last final was Thursday afternoon, in Defense Against the Dark Arts. If Charms was her best exam, defense was the most fun, at least, it should have been. Professor Lupin had set up, of all things, an obstacle course filled with many of the dark creatures they'd discussed and saw. There were will-o'-the-wisps, to lead her astray, a Grindylow in a wading pool, a couple of gnomes (Frisk was careful to throw them away from Hagrid's vegetable patch), a small marsh where imps tried to push her and throw things at her, and finally, a large trunk.

"Boggart," Frisk mumbled to herself, eyeing the trunk. It had to be a boggart, and she was ready for it. She had figured out how to deal with Flowey. But when she got in to the trunk to face the boggart, it wasn't Flowey, or Asriel, or Asriel turning into Flowey. Instead, she was face to face with the black robe of a dementor.

Frisk gave a rather loud yelp of alarm as she felt the air grow colder. She backed up so quickly, she crashed into the side of the trunk. Professor Lupin looked into the trunk quickly, saw the creature, and instead of intervening. "Don't lose your head, Frisk! What must that be?"

"Boggart!" She focused on the picture she had of Flowey. "Riddikulus!" There was a whip-crack noise, and the boggart's form changed into what was, still a black cloak, but decorated with all sorts of yellow flowers, looking up at the boggart's face with mocking expressions. Lupin, still watching, began to laugh, and Frisk laughed with him.

She climbed out of the trunk. "Very nearly full marks, Frisk, well done," Lupin said, still laughing.

"I knew it was going to be a boggart," Frisk said, as her breath caught up with her. "But I thought it was going to become Asriel... and when it wasn't, I was surprised. Why'd it change?"

"That's an interesting discussion, Frisk," Lupin said, "But I have to keep going with the final. I'd be happy to talk to talk about it say, tonight after dinner? In my office?"

"Okay!" Frisk said. She watched the next couple of students go through their paces before heading back to the common room to drop off her things one last time.

* * *

The mood that evening at dinner was celebratory. The students of Hogwarts had made it through their finals, their OWLs, and even (for a lucky few) NEWTs. Well, for most people. For Frisk, and a few others, there was still one final left, and it was the most important one.

Percy, in one of his last acts as Head Boy, had delivered the note from Dumbledore to Frisk. The machine was ready. The destination time was known. They were to meet outside his office at ten in the morning. "Transportation has been arranged," the note said, though there wasn't any hint of what that could be.

But that was for tomorrow. She took the time to find each of her friends, and had a good conversation with each, before promising to see them the next day. Steven even came to her, no matter what the Gryffindor table thought of him, she was convinced he meant well. After all this, Frisk still wanted to know why Boggart in the final had decided to become a dementor, if only to take her mind off the butterflies in her stomach.

She was one of the last to leave the great hall, and one of the few not to be heading straight for a common room. Instead, she climbed the stairs and headed down the hall to Lupin's office, where she announced her presence by knocking on the door.

There was no reply.

After a few seconds, she tried knocking again. There was still no response. Surprised, Frisk tried to remember if she'd seen Lupin at the staff table during dinner, but couldn't remember... she hadn't looked. Convinced he'd stepped out for a moment, Frisk sat down to wait for him. Her mind was cheerfully thinking of all the things that could go wrong the next day... including one nightmare that left all seven of them dead, and allowed a dark Flowey to rampage across the United Kingdom. Dumbledore would be with them, right, so that wasn't going to happen, she told herself sternly.

Minutes ticked by, and there was still no sign of Lupin. She was starting to consider heading to the Gryffindor common room, to fill her mind with conversation instead of possibilities, when, of all people, Professor Snape came into view around the corner, holding a heavily smoking goblet. He looked down at the student and narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here, Ms. Dreemurr?" he asked.

"I wanted to discuss the defense final with Professor Lupin," she said. "I think he's stepped out."

"Has he?" Professor Snape said grumpily. "Did you so much as try the door?"

"No, sir. I thought that would be rude," She stood quickly. "Is that for him? Would you like me to get the door for you?"

"Yes," was the potions master's one word reply. So Frisk stood and tried the door. It was, in fact, unlocked, and Frisk held the door open for the professor. But she didn't hear Lupin inside. After about thirty seconds, Snape dashed back out, his hands empty. Bewildered, Frisk went into the office, and saw the still smoking goblet on Lupin's desk. There was, however, no sign of the professor. She ran over to look, and next to it, sat an unrolled parchment map.

"Was he looking at this?" Frisk wondered aloud, peering down at the map. It was a very detailed map of Hogwarts, so detailed there was a dot labeled 'Frisk' in a box labeled as Lupin's office. Professor Snape's dot was rushing towards the Grand stairwell, but what had he seen?

Frisk glanced through the map as quickly as could, and then she saw it. Lupin's dot was heading down a corridor that went off the edge of the map. To where, she wasn't sure. But she was sure of this: it was a full moon that night. And Lupin's potion, to stop him from transforming into a werewolf, was right there in front of her. If he didn't get it immediately, there was no telling what could happen.

For a moment, Frisk stood paralyzed. If she went out, and she was attacked, not only might she die, but she would be condemning Asriel to a lonely, Flowey existence without a soul.

But the idea that anyone would get hurt while she searched for a teacher, brought them back here, and then got out was worse.

She picked up both the map, and the smoking goblet, itself warm to the touch. Then she followed as quickly as she dared after Professor Snape.


	21. Hunted and Haunted

Frisk hurried through the halls as fast as she could, which wasn't as fast as she would have liked, as she was carrying a large smoking goblet filled with liquid she really didn't want to spill. She encountered not so much as a ghost on her way down. Even the great hall had emptied out.

The late spring air was warm, and the breeze would have made the night extremely pleasant to be out in, but the sounds of animals settling in the trees did nothing to calm Frisk's nerves.

The sun had already mostly set, and the moon would be up soon.

Once out in the grounds, Frisk was forced to spend precious time where she'd seen the tunnel Lupin's dot was in. It was past the groundskeeper's hut, and had even been around the lake, in an area of the grounds Frisk hadn't actually ever been to.

She stuffed the map back into her pocket, and intoned "Lumos!". With her lighted wand in one hand, and goblet in the other, Frisk jogged in the direction the map had pointed her, taking the shorter way past the lake. There might have been people that could have helped her in Hagrid's hut, but it would have taken too much time. "Where is it?" she wondered aloud. The she saw the large willow tree. The tunnel must have been hidden under the tree!

Something about the tree was bothering her. It wasn't moving at all. Not even the smallest branches and twigs were swaying in the breeze. Frisk gamely moved up to the tree, pointing her wandlight at the trunk, searching for the hole that must be there.

 **Thwack!** A large branch of the previously motionless tree caught Frisk completely by surprise. It struck her directly across the chest. She stumbled backwards, barely hanging onto her wand, and spilling drops of precious liquid, but managing to keep her balance, barely.

She looked up in alarm. The tree had pulled its branch back for another swing, and now it was swaying violently, to and fro, ready to take vengeance on the first year student that dared approach it. With a shout of alarm, Frisk ducked under the branch, and had to dodge two additional longer limbs before she was safely out of tree's range.

She stared up at the tree that had been so motionless just a few seconds ago. "What happened?" she asked nobody in particular. If Frisk was hoping for an answer, she was disappointed. The willow continued to wave its arms threateningly, daring Frisk to get closer, to try again.

"Please!" she begged the tree. "I need to get this potion to Professor Lupin!" But the tree took a taunting, gratuitous swipe at her. She paced around the tree, searching for some sort of weak spot. After a several minutes of looking, as quickly as it animated, the tree froze again.

Frisk stared, unsure what to make of this. Was it another trick or was it... wait. Was that a... was that a cat? "Crookshanks?" she asked aloud. The large cat moseyed over to Frisk, its bottle-brush tail held high and proud, rubbing against her legs. And as Frisk goggled, seven more people climbed out of the hole.

First was Professor Lupin and Ronald Weasley. Between them, chained at the arms, was a short balding man with greasy appearance and shrunken eyes. Who this could possibly be, Frisk hadn't the faintest idea. After them emerged a very unconscious, floating, Professor Snape, his head bumping against a tree root. Then came someone she'd seen only on wanted posters.

"Sirius Black," she said, thunderstruck. Why wasn't he the one in chains? She fumbled her wand. What spells did she know that could defend herself against a murderer?

"Who's that?" asked Sirius, his voice was throaty and cracking from what might have been disuse. Harry and Hermione climbed out of the tree's stump. Crookshanks walked back toward the tree, pawing at spot near the bottom.

"Frisk Dreemurr?" Professor Lupin asked, staring at her in as much shock as she felt. "What could you possibly be doing here?"

"I was going to meet you outside your office," Frisk said, her voice shaking. "But you weren't there, and Snape brought your potion and..." and that got her brain moving again. "Your potion!" Sirius Black, and dangerous tree, momentarily forgotten, she raced towards Lupin, goblet extended in her hand.

"You came out at night, looking for someone who very possibly could be a raging werewolf, to try to make sure I don't harm anyone?" Lupin asked, amazed. "Frisk, you really are something else. I am in your debt." He took the goblet and downed the contents in two deep swallows. "I only hope it works. That potion's really only effective when it's fresh." He made a face. "Still disgusting... but I guess you're wondering what's going on here."

"You should take a look inside," Hermione said, suddenly. "You're a lot better at that than I am. I want to know what it looks like inside."

"What?" Harry asked, "Oh! That's a good idea."

Ron tightened his grip on the small, quivering man.

"Okay?" Frisk said, and she focused. All around the willow, colored lights blinked into existence. But the only two that Frisk paid attention to was the deep mixture of black and yellow of Sirius's soul, and the bright liquid-medicine pink of the soul of the prisoner.

"You've never mentioned pink... or black," Hermione said.

"I've... I've never heard of pink," Frisk said, staring. "I'd have to ask Alphys. But black, I thought black was LOVE... the level of violence. Something that showed that you'd killed someone else. What's going on?" Frisk demanded.

"We need to go," Sirius declared as Hermione appeared thoughtful. "The dementors are still patrolling, and your little light show isn't hard to notice. If you still don't trust me, Harry, I'll take a truth serum. I'll prove it to you. I want nothing more to prove my innocence."

"Over here, Frisk," Hermione said. As they walked, Hermione filled her in quickly, about the shackled man was the person, Peter Petigrew, that Black had been accused of killing. And how Snape had hated Black for a schoolyard prank that nearly got Snape killed.

Then the clouds parted, and they caught a glimpse of the moon. The beautiful, full moon, that had just crept over the horizon. Lupin froze, caught by the moon's glow. Sirius threw out his arm to catch Frisk, Harry, and Hermione.

"Did it work?" Hermione asked breathlessly. "The potion... is he safe?"

At that moment, many things happened at once. Lupin began his transformation into a werewolf. Sirius Black disappeared, apparently transformed into a large black dog. The captured man had also made a move, diving for Lupin's dropped wand, pulling Ron with him.

"No!" shouted Harry, "Expelliarmus!" he said, pointing at the chained man. But it was too late. The man was undergoing his own transformation, shrinking smaller and smaller, until he was a small, pet sized, rat. The rat stared back up at them for just a second before skittering off into the brush.

Frisk stared. Was that, of all things, Scabbers? She had her attention forcibly taken by the growling of dog versus very large werewolf. The werewolf was on the losing end of the fight. When the dog had its attention distracted by Harry's shout, the wolf wrenched itself free and fled toward the forest.

Separated from the threat of the werewolf, the dog looked at the empty manacles. With a snarl, it looked around for the fleeing rat, then barreled off, nose to the ground.

"What did he do to him?" Harry said. He and Hermione were kneeling over their friend Ron, now lying motionless on the ground. "He's alive, he's still breathing."  
Frisk, finally with her bearings back, hurried next to them, gripping her wand. "Lumostos," she said, holding her wand over Ron's arm. The bonelight spell illuminated the damage, it looked like Ron's arm bone had been completely pulled out of the socket.

"You learned that from Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione asked, to Frisk's quick nod. "I think that's relatively easy to fix, even for muggles... you just have to push it back in."

"We better get him back up to the castle," began Harry, but then they were interrupted by the sound of a dog howling in pain.

"Sirius," Harry said, alarmed. He looked indecisive for a moment, then charged off in the direction of the howl.

Hermione and Frisk looked at each other, and took off after him. But as they got close to the lake, Frisk could feel the air growing cold. And there was Harry, standing over Sirius, human again. Sirius had his face buried to the ground, whimpering like a frightened puppy. Frisk and Hermione arrived, just in time for the dementors, hundreds of them, to close the circle around them.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry chanted. But nothing happened. "Frisk, Hermione, help me! You... you have to focus on something happy!"

Hermione tottered and collapsed to her knees beside Frisk.

Something happy? Every happy thought that came to Frisk's mind vanished within an instant of it arriving. The dementors were getting closer and... did they recognize her? Why? Their quarry was right there, on the sands. They'd split up.. some approaching Harry, some approaching Frisk.

She could feel her wand growing warm in her hand, and saw a red beam of concentrated firelight burst from it, striking one of them. That one fell back, giving what must have been a cry of pain.

One of the other dementors glided towards her, grabbing her tightly at the wrist with a cold, dead hand, squeezing it until the wand dropped. She could feel its cold, dead breath. One directly in front of her seemed to consider her, and gave a very human like nod of acknowledgment. Then it raised both hands, and lowered its hood.

Some people thought skeletons looked creepy. Those people had never seen what was beneath a dementor's hood. Where eyes should have been, there were only thin strips of skin. And there was no mouth, only a thin hole. Papyrus was capable of showing a wide range of emotions, and Sans never stopped smiling... but dementors could never have smiled. It lowered its head and prepared to kiss.

 _NO! You have to stay determined! For Asriel! Please!_

Frisk wrenched her hands free and head clear. She held onto the thought that was still burning into her mind. Over to her side, she could see another dementor ready to kiss Harry. Her wand, she had to find her wand. She had no idea what she could do, but any hope had to start with her wand.

Through the gloom, a silver light burst from somewhere nearby. A large, silvery, deer. A stag, with antlers throwing dementors left and right, the others fleeing before it. And it was warm, a comforting warmth like a fireplace on a winter's day. It circled around the four of them, and then headed back across the lake. Frisk strained to see where it was going, but it went out of her field of vision.

Frisk was woozy, but that was better than anyone else was doing. She, alone of Harry, Hermione, or Sirius stood. What was she supposed to now? She found her wand, a few inches away. She lit her wand, nudging the other students. "C'mon, Harry... Hermione. I need help!" If only she knew of some way of signaling to someone, anyone, that she was here. And Ron... what if he was attacked?

That's when she heard footsteps, someone was coming towards her. It was... "Professor Snape," she said, gratefully. Behind him she could see Ron, lying flatly on a floating stretcher

Professor Snape glanced at her, gave a start of surprise, then turned to Black. "It is time to end this. I don't know where the dementors went, but I don't care. I will simply do it myself," he raised his wand, pointing it at Black's chest.

"You can't!" Frisk cried, stepping between her potions master and his victim. "Executing someone like that does damage to your soul!"

"Out of the way," Snape said, "Please." His voice was flat, almost monotone. His eyes gleamed in a way that Frisk had never seen before, not in anyone.

"No," Frisk said. "I won't. You're a better person that Snape. This isn't worth something that happened a dozen years ago."

"Me?" Snape cried out, his voice was desperate and high pitched. She'd never heard him sound like this. "You, of all people should know this isn't about me! This is about his betrayal. He **murdered** you. Don't you remember?"

Had she gone back... and not remembered it? No, there wasn't a chance of that. "No... professor... how could he have killed me? I'm right here."

"He sold you out to the dark lord. I want to be able to finally, kill the person who got the **only** person I ever cared about murdered." His stare, that seemed to go right through Frisk, told her one thing. She wasn't sure who Professor Snape thought he was talking to... but he wasn't talking to Frisk.

"No, Snape. He didn't murder me! I'm standing right here. I'm in your way because I know you could be better than this! You don't have to kill him. You don't have to kill anyone for me."

"Lily Evans. Wasn't it him? Wasn't it Sirius Black, that idiot James's best friend, who gave your secret to the dark lord? Tell me the truth! It was Sirius, wasn't it?" Snape's voice was anguished and full of pain. "Or was Harry Potter telling the truth?"

Was it? Harry had been convinced it was, but Frisk didn't know what had gone on in the tunnel under the willow. How could she... and the thoughts bubbled at her:

 _The rat man... he was called a spy... had come to us. We called for the dark lord on his behalf. Why do you disturb me? The dark lord asked him. Because I can give you the Potters. He was rewarded with the Dark Mark itself..._

"How..." Frisk began to whisper under her breath...

"Was Harry Potter telling the truth?" Snape demanded again, in the same anguished voice. "Was it Petigrew, this whole time?"

"Yes," Frisk replied. "Peter, who escaped by transforming into a rat."

Snape, completely uncharacteristically, fell to his knees, sobbing into the sleeve of his robe. "Lily... I've failed you again. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Make it up to her. We need to get inside, away from the dementors."

"Right," Snape said, regaining his composure almost as quickly as he had lost it. He looked around at the unconscious bodies around him. Wordlessly, he called forth three more floating stretchers, and levitated the other unconscious people onto them. He then turned and headed back up to the castle. Frisk hurried to keep up.

They said nothing as they walked. Snape was lost in some deep thought, and Frisk was again trying to draw out those other thoughts that spontaneously appeared in her mind.

Which meant neither of them noticed that the air had grown cold as the dementors came back for a second round.

Frisk screamed in pain and terror as she was attacked from behind, grabbed by her wrists, forced to drop her wand, again. She struggled fruitlessly, as she was pulled back the way she came.

Snape whirled around, his wand in his hand and pointing in the time it takes for the heart to beat. "You will **not** take her from me again! Expecto Patronum!" Another white burst of light flooded Frisk's vision. But it was no stag this time, but a doe, just as bright, just as warm, that thundered through the pack of dementors, sending them scattering.

"Did you know?" Snape asked Frisk conversationally, as Frisk swayed on her feet. "It's always the same moment. When you defended me against James and Sirius. I didn't think any Gryffindor would break ranks like that. Like the Dreemurr girl did for young Marsh. I wish you were still here, Lily... you would have liked her."

Frisk was dimly aware of what he said, but the second dementor attack had been too much. She slumped down, too drained to move any more.

"Lily?" Snape asked, rushing to Frisk's side, "Lily!" he screamed.

The last thing she remembered were voices, among them the headmaster's, racing towards them from the castle doors.

* * *

She woke up in the familiar environs of the hospital wing. She was lying on a bed, so were Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Madam Pomfrey was bending over Ron, tending to his wounds. She could see three other people through the open door. The Headmaster, and Professor Snape, but the third person, Frisk didn't recognize.

"I'm telling you, Snape, this will earn you the Order of Merlin, second class. First class if I can manage it."

"And I am telling you," Snape said in his normal cold voice. "I am not interested. You should take your time and get it right. If Black isn't the culprit you think he is..."

The officious looking person favored Snape with a sympathetic smile. "You're still not feeling well, are you? We heard you calling for Lily Evans at the entrance hall, and she's been dead for, well, it's been about ten years, hasn't it? You'll feel better about this whole thing after you've had some time to get some real rest.

"What I am really worried about, minister, is the behavior of the dementors. They went after young Dreemurr directly. Twice. I know they rely on other senses than sight, but even they can tell a young girl from an escaped male prisoner. So why her. And why Potter?"

Dumbledore looked at Snape, then at the minister with a very dark expression on his face.

The minister never did get a chance to reply. Harry Potter exploded with a " **What!** " from the other bed, and Hermione moved almost as quickly. The three gentlemen came through the hospital wing door, looking at Harry extremely agitated.

After a further row that Frisk simply couldn't concentrate enough to understand, Dumbledore calmly, but firmly, ordered the other adults out of the room. Then he turned to Frisk. "Ms. Dreemurr, I believe you are awake."

Frisk struggled, but sat up. "Yes, sir?" she asked, rubbing her head.

"I need to know the truth, and know it quickly. Did you see Peter Petigrew on the grounds tonight?"

"I saw someone... that wasn't Sirius, that the others told me was Petigrew," Frisk said. "He never acknowledged them."

But this answer seemed to satisfy the headmaster, who turned to Hermione and Harry. "You need to understand. The word of a werewolf – who's testimony will come too late, three underage wizards, and a wizard addled enough to mistake a student for a ghost will not convince anyone. Especially not Fudge, who simply wants this whole mess to go away."

This was met by objections from Harry and Hermione. "I agree. But what we need here is more time."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. And Frisk knew why, if there was a life or death situation... this was it. The minister was about to execute a man who very well may be innocent. "Harry, Hermione?" she said, as Dumbledore stepped out of the door. "Good luck!"

"Good luck..." Harry began to ask, bemused, as Hermione took out a golden chain from the neck of her robe. "What are you..."

...and they vanished into thin air.

Not five seconds later, they reappeared, through the more conventional method of walking through the door.

"What happened?" Frisk asked, her voice low.

"Black escaped on Buckbeak," Hermione reported. "The potion worked, by the way. Lupin fell asleep not far from where he transformed. He's not going to hurt anyone." The lock clicked, and Harry and Hermione quickly climbed back into bed, as Madam Pomfrey came out to check on her patients. They accepted their chocolate quietly, and said nothing to each other.

A few minutes later, there was noise coming from upstairs.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Madam Pomfrey complained, "Now what?"

The door opened, and the three men strode back into the room. Dumbledore's face was serious, while Snape looked smug. Minister Fudge, on the other hand, looked furious.

"When word of this escape gets out... and it will, I'm going to look like a laughing stock!"

"If you wish my opinion," Dumbledore said, "And you often don't, but I shall give it anyway. That is hardly the worst thing that could get out about tonight." Fudge looked about to protest, but Dumbledore raised his voice and kept speaking. "Over the course of this year, Mr. Harry Potter has been directly attacked by dementors three times. Once tonight,"

"He was out of bounds," the minister said.

"Once on the train last fall, as witnessed by Professor Lupin."

"You expect me to believe a werewolf?"

"And once in the middle of a Quidditch match, witnessed by the entire school. Myself included. Is that correct, Mr. Potter?" he asked.

"Yes, headmaster," Harry said, promptly.

At that, the minister's face paled, and his mouth clicked shut.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, "Ms. Frisk Dreemurr was also directly attacked by dementors twice tonight. Once with Harry Potter, and yes. That was out of bounds. The second time was on the doorstep of this castle, and both you and I saw the aftereffects. Do I have that right, Ms. Frisk?" he asked the room, not removing his eyes from the battered minister.

"Yes, sir. That's right," Frisk said.

The minister stared at Dumbledore, his face blank.

"You say they are under the ministry's complete control. So, is there some reason the minister's dementors were going after the boy-who-lived and the adopted daughter of the king and queen of the Mt. Ebott monsters?" There was no reply, "I warned you when you posted them. My position on the dementors has _not_ changed. They will be removed immediately, right?"

"Yes," he said, "Of course."

"And if you want this to stay quiet, we shall have to make it up to the King and Queen **before** they learn of it..." Dumbledore said. "As this happened at my school, you know what I recommend."

Now Fudge's face went scarlet. "Now, see here Dumbledore, that is an international statute!"

"And I know that the Mt. Ebott monsters aren't covered by that statue... and you can make an exception to the British one..."

"Professors, Minister, please. Can my patients, if there is nothing else you need to ask them, **finally** get some rest?" Madam Pomfrey begged.

"You have my apologies, Poppy," Dumbledore said sincerely. "The rest of this can be handled in my office. Frisk, Ron, Harry, Hermione, good night. Rest well. I hope I will see you at ten A.M. tomorrow at my office."


	22. Found Souls

They were released early the next morning, and Harry, Hermione, Ron (with wounds expertly healed), and Frisk all headed back up to Gryffindor tower to change into fresh robes and clean up before the day's field trip.

"Where were you last night?" asked Neville as she returned to the common room from her bedroom. "I wanted to talk to you about the trip today."

"I was getting something for Lupin," Frisk told him, "And on the way back I was attacked by dementors away from where they were supposed to be." True, as far as it went. She didn't really like lying, even by omission, but how was she supposed to explain she helped a convict escape?

Neville seemed to be aware something more was going on. "Harry, Ron, and Hermione all spent the night in the hospital ward with you. That's not the whole story, is it?" he asked. "The three of them always seem to get up to something at the end of term."

"No," Frisk admitted. "But I'm pretty sure Dumbledore wouldn't want me to talk about it. So I don't think I should," she said, apologetically. "Anyway, I'd like to go down to breakfast. Would you like to walk with me?"

So they clambered down through the portrait hole down to the great hall. Neville wanted to ask more about Asriel's persona as Flowey, which Frisk understood, even as it made her uncomfortable. "Do you think he'll remember you?" he asked, shooting the portrait of Sir Cadogan a dark look as they passed the fifth floor.

"He'll remember me," Frisk predicted. "I don't think he'll forget what happened. He followed me the entire way through the underground. I just hope he doesn't think he has to hide from us." She'd had several nightmares last night, probably from the dementor influence. Flowey hiding from them in shame, never seeing his soul, had been one of them.

"That's good, I guess," Neville said. "That he'll remember you, I mean. Is everything else is ready?"

"It is, as far as I know," Frisk confirmed. They'd reached the Great Hall, which was much emptier than normal. Most of the students were sleeping in, or packing. Frisk would deal with packing when she got back.

Ginny, Ron, and Harry were waiting for her at the table. "Hermione said something about wanting to talk to Professor Vector before we left, since we have no idea how long we'll be gone," Ginny told her. "Everyone else is down here already."

Frisk looked moodily at the breakfast options. She had butterflies in her stomach, and wasn't really feeling hungry, though she knew she normally would be.

"You should eat something. It's important to go into a game having had a good breakfast," Harry told her, who must have been trying to do a voice that Frisk didn't recognize. "Sorry," he said, giving her a sheepish grin. "That was my Quidditch captain, Oliver. You should have seen him on game mornings, trying to convince us not to be nervous while being a wreck himself." He looked at Frisk's raised eyebrows and looked around suddenly. "He's not behind me, is he?"

"No," Frisk said, finally laughing. She picked some eggs and toast, realizing how hungry she actually was. "Thanks. I needed that." After she ate, she looked up at the staff table. "Dumbledore's not here... he must be still in the office. I think I'll head up there a bit early, I wanted to ask him about last night."

"Lupin's alright," Ron pointed out. "He's there eating breakfast."

Ron was right, Lupin was there. But Professor Snape was missing, and that was bothering Frisk.

"Still, I want a chance to talk to the headmaster before everyone gets up there," Frisk said. Taking her last bite of toast, Frisk stood. "See you in a little bit," she said, heading towards the staff table. "Professor Lupin, are you okay this morning?"

Lupin favored Frisk with a wan smile, "I'm as good as can be expected, Ms. Dreemurr. Thank you again for last night, and good luck on today's endeavor."

Frisk smiled, and headed up to the second floor to the headmaster's office. She gave the password to the Gargoyle (bounty), and climbed the spiral stairwell. The professor's office hadn't changed much. The devices scattered around the room were still whirring, clicking, and spinning. The portraits of the previous headmasters still snored in their frames. The bowl on the desk, however, had been replaced with two red plastic discs with holes in the center. They actually resembled nothing more than mundane flying disc toys.

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "You're here a bit early, Frisk." He rose from his chair, folding his newspaper. With a momentarily disgusted look, he threw it on the chair behind him, and approached Frisk, standing with the desk between them.

"I wanted to ask about Professor Snape, sir. You said he mistook me for a ghost last night, and he wasn't down at breakfast. Is he okay?"

"Lupin advised me that Professor Snape took a rather powerful blow to the head last night," Dumbledore explained. "And while he is much too proud to ask Madam Pomfrey to check on him, I have asked her to approach him to see if he is suffering from a concussion, or anything worse."

"Thank you sir," Frisk said, "I had one other question. Who was Lily Evans... the 'ghost' he mistook me for?"

Dumbledore looked wistful. "Harry Potter's mother, and for a while, Serverus's best friend." He studied Frisk's concerned face. "To be fair to Professor Snape, you remind me of her. Checking on his condition, and this personal quest of yours are both things Lily would have done." His eyes lowered to his desk for a moment. "Are you aware what happened to the Potters?"

"They were killed by the dark lord," Frisk said, remembering the intrusive thoughts from the night before. Then Frisk was struck by a thought of her own, "Do I look like her, too?" she asked. She almost didn't want to hear the answer.

"No, I'm afraid you do not," Dumbledore said, "I'm sorry, Frisk."

"It's okay," she said. "I just wondered. Thank you, professor."

They made small talk over the next few minutes, and soon, all seven other people that had agreed to help Frisk made their way up to the office, even Neville was on time. Harry Potter arrived with Ron and Hermione. "I hope I'm not intruding, headmaster," he said. "But I wanted to support my friends, even if I couldn't help directly."

Dumbledore favored him with a grandfatherly benign smile. "I expected nothing less from you, Mr. Potter." He looked at the group of assembled students. "I believe you are all introduced to each other, correct?" he asked. There was a murmur of ascent.

"How will we be getting there?" asked Neville, "The Knight Bus?"

"A good guess. But no, Mr. Longbottom," the headmaster said. "If all goes well, you will be returning with two children you didn't arrive with..."

"Two?" asked Ginny.

"Yes, two," said the headmaster. "While the questions will be raised eventually, I wish them to be asked on my terms. So, as convenient a way the Knight Bus would be, I had to find another mode of transportation. Who here has heard of a portkey?" he asked.

A few of them had. Hermione raised her hand, as if she was still in class. "A portkey is a temporarily enchanted object, designed to take whoever is touching it at a precise moment to a single specific location."

"Very good, Ms. Granger," Dumbledore said. "I have set up two portkeys, these discs, that will bring all ten of us to the cave entrance to Mt. Ebott, where the barrier was. It cannot take us any further, due to magical interference from where the barrier used to be."

"Even going in?" Frisk asked. "I was told the barrier prevented things leaving, but not going in."

"Physically, yes. But the barrier prevented magic from crossing either way by absorbing it into itself." Dumbledore said. "And it will take some time for that enchantment to dissipate." He checked a timepiece on the wall. "Our two guides should be there now." He waved his wand over both of the two discs in turn. "Portus," he said. The discs glowed with a bright blue light for a moment, and then returned to their normal red color. "You will need to take hold of them at about the same time," Dumbledore explained. "So I need five of you," Frisk, Ginny, Opal, Luna, and Steven stepped up, spreading themselves out around the ring. "So on three. One... two..."

And on "three", all five of them took hold of the disc. Frisk felt a wrench in her stomach, followed by a feeling of being out of sync. It was the same feeling she had in King's Cross. After a few moments, she was able to open her eyes again, and found herself standing with the others on the plateau just outside 'Home'. The plateau was covered in bright sunlight from the sun above their heads.

"We should have timed this better," Frisk told them. "When I came out of the underground with my friends, the sun was just rising. It was beautiful."

"It's still a pretty good view," Steven said, looking toward the distant human civilization. "What was it like for them? Were they seeing it for the first time?"

"They were entranced. We stood there for probably at least five or ten minutes," Frisk replied. "Asgore and Toriel might have seen it before, but I think it was the first time for most of them."

"it certainly was for me," said a voice behind them.

Frisk spun around, spotted the skeleton, and dove at him. "Sans!" she called, catching him in an embrace.

"heh, heh. good to see you too, kiddo. what happened? didn't you see me skull-king there?"

Any groans the others may have gave emitted at the bone pun was obscured by the **crack** heralding the arrival of Dumbledore, Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Ron. As they took a second a moment to get their bearing, a second person emerged from the cave. "Good to see you, headmaster," Kurt Kairos told him, one hand holding a large bag.

Frisk released Sans, stepped back, and introduced Mr. Kairos from the department of mysteries and Sans to her friends. Before she could tell him how bad an idea it was, Steven stepped up and offered Sans a hand to shake.

Frisk covered her ears. The eyes and wincing of her classmates suggested she had been right to do so.

"I see what Frisk has said about you is right," Dumbledore said mildly, after Frisk uncovered her ears. He was smiling, though.

"From what Sans has told me this morning," Kurt said, "We ought to get moving before this Flowey creature realizes we've brought a number of people down here and does something about it."

"Is Flowey likely to have noticed, Sans? I thought he was staying in the room under the hole on the peak," Frisk asked urgently.

"he had been," Sans said, "but he's noticed when I come into the underground. and there's lots of us here now, so i'm pretty sure he'll realize people are down here again. so, good idea. it's not that far to where we've set up the machine," Sans said. "shall we go?"

The underground hadn't changed much since Frisk had been there the last time. They walked down the corridor she'd fought Asgore, Nightmare Flowey, past the spot where she'd woken up after trying to get Asriel to come to his senses, into the large throne room. It was still covered with golden flowers, maybe even more so now. One throne was sitting, gathering dust, in the center of the room. The other, still covered with a large white cloth, was still alongside the back wall. The machine, resembling a small helicopter without the blades, was nestled in one corner of the throne room.

"finally got it working," Sans said, "thanks to kurt over here. didn't think i'd ever see it. you ready, kiddo?" He looked over at Frisk. "ah, you'll be fine. just be like me. nothing ever gets under my skin."

"But you... oh, for..." Ron said, groaning.

"Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore said, chuckling politely. "I need you to take this," he handed a holly wand to Hermione.

"Is that the wand Mr. Kairos found in the 'Sunlit Room'?" Hermione asked, turning the stave over in her hands. "It looks a lot cleaner, but it seems to be."

"Good memory," Mr. Kairos said, "Though it isn't... yet. Your headmaster commissioned that wand from Ollivander two weeks ago." He set down his bag and began to rifle through it.

Frisk felt her head to starting to hurt, but Hermione looked excited. "I get it, we need to take it into the past so he can find it again to settle the professor's bet. Does that mean..." she smiled at the large doll that he'd pulled out of the bag that had to have been too small for it. "We'll have to take that back with us, too, right?"

"Precisely," Dumbledore said. "I hope that this wand is sympathetic to your efforts. Hermione, you will need to transfigure that doll into a close enough version of Ms. Chara for it to fool Toriel, and you will need to hide that wand somewhere in the transfiguration so it is not found. Good luck, ah, and don't worry about using magic yourselves. The barrier will keep the trace from finding you."

"there's, uh, one last thing you need, actually," Sans said. He held up a large jar. Frisk wasn't quite sure where it came from, but she certainly recognized it, she'd seen six others just like it. "got this from the king's storeroom. heh, was supposed to be yours, guess it is now."

"You didn't have to put it like that," Frisk said, slightly unnerved.

There was no point in waiting any more. Frisk took the healer's doll from Mr. Kairos and the jar from Sans while Hermione took the wand in her hands, turning it over in her hands, and tucking it into her robe. They climbed into Sans's machine to the chorus of well wishes from the others. There was a display, with one set of LED lights showing the current time (which Frisk copied down), and one showing the destination time, which had been preset for them. Then it was simple exercise to close and lock the doors, and push the button marked "engage".

Frisk heard the engine rumble, faster, and faster. The scene behind the windows faded into white. Various dials and gauges began to spin, madly. But just as quickly, they settled. Hermione and Frisk looked at each other, and climbed back out of the machine.

It wasn't just the lack of people that convinced Frisk they'd gone back in time. Both thrones were in the proper place, and they were polished to a golden shine. The floor was covered with carpet over the dirt, and there was no hint of any golden flowers.

Frisk retrieved the jar from the machine, and felt Hermione grab her arm.

"I think someone's coming," she said, pointing down the hallway that led to the currently intact barrier. Frisk and Hermione hurried down to the corridor that led to the long hallway, eventually connecting to the home above. They peaked around the corner, watching.

"That's a child?" Hermione whispered. And it was true, it wasn't the child that Frisk remembered that was carrying a small body down the corridor, but Asriel's larger form, the one she'd fought for control of the time line.

"That's him," she whispered. "He still has Chara's soul," but as she said that, they could see him laying the human child gently down in the center of the room, in front of the throne. A moment later, his body shimmered and vanished, and in his place sat the monster that had used the other human souls to break the barrier, wearing the same green and gold striped shirt that the human child was wearing.

"I'm sorry, Chara," they heard him sob. He coughed. "I couldn't do it. They deserve a chance too. If I took their lives, their souls... I'd have been no better than the wizards who trapped us here. They were just scared." He paused and wiped his face, coughing again, then caressed the child's cheek "Do you remember when you fell in Waterfall? You scratched your face... I'd never seen human blood before. It was good thing Mom had found those bandages. He coughed again, a distressing choking noise. "What's... what's happening to me?" he asked, and then gasped. He lifted his arm to look at his paw... and it was missing, dissolved into dust. "No!" he shouted. "I don't want to die! I just wanted to be a good friend, somebody..."

 _Now! Hurry!_

" **Help me**!"

Frisk dropped the jar, and bolted from her hiding spot in the passage, to Hermione's shout of alarm. Frisk ran to try to comfort the monster child. But she was too late. Her arms closed around a large cloud of dust, his clothes falling limply to the ground. She instinctively brushed off her robes, realizing she was coating a large seed with Asriel's dust.

The souls, she had to find them before they shattered. She looked up, calling out for it with soul magic. There! It was hanging in the air, just steps from her, shivering in the open air. "No, no, it's okay," she told the silver, glimmering soul. She cupped the air around it, pulling Asriel's soul towards her own chest, to find safety with her own.

Her body absorbed the soul, and for an instant, Frisk felt a wave of power flow through her body. At that moment, she could have done so many things. She felt like one of the most powerful witches on the face of the planet. She could... she could...

 _Frisk..._

She could finally bring Asriel home. She wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Is... is that a soul?" Hermione asked, pointing nearby. Frisk followed her gaze. She'd seen some souls that looked so different from the ones of her classmates, from the ones in King Asgore's bottles. A pink one, souls of mixed yellow and black. A soul that appeared to be whole, but empty. This soul was the strangest of all, it looked incomplete. It looked like most of a heart, but there was a large piece missing, and there were cracks that riddled the red, determined, soul.

"That's it, where's the jar?" Frisk asked.

Hermione had it, and she'd unscrewed the top, lifting it to catch the damaged soul. It floated up and down, apparently unable to leave the bottle after Hermione had put the lid back on. She hurried to store it in Sans's machine and retrieve the healer's practice doll, and placed it next to the human body.

Hermione tried, twice, to transfigure the doll into human form. Each time she got close, but it was very clearly not the human in front of her. "I can't do it... I'm not strong enough. I know the technique... but I can't do it!"

Frisk stepped next to Hermione. "Let me help you," she whispered, placing her left hand on top of Hermione's right. Together, with the power Frisk currently felt, and Hermione's skill, they completed the transfiguration, turning the doll into an exact replica of the girl who must have been Chara.

Frisk reached down to take the bandage from the real Chara when she was hit by a realization. "I didn't fall on her grave. She was never buried there." Frisk whispered. She called out a second time, and she could see it glimmering in the bandage that Asriel Dreemurr put on his best friend. A piece of Chara's soul. The piece that had been with her ever since she fell the very first time.

Pulling her hand back into her robe, she removed the bandage, carefully not letting it touch her skin. It didn't stick on the transfigured body very well, but that was okay. It needed to fall off under the hole, where she could find it... had she landed on it? She couldn't remember.

Hermione tucked the holly wand she'd been given under the duplicate's shirt. She was quiet for a second, then looked up in alarm. "I think I hear someone coming, Frisk, we'd better hurry."

Frisk picked up the still warm body by the legs, and Hermione took the arms. Struggling, the girls moved Chara's corpse to the machine, and fell in the now cramped cockpit between them.

"When did we leave?" Hermione asked, urgently.

Frisk read off the time, and Hermione set the destination. It would be not quite ten minutes after they left, as the machine only let them get precise down to the hour. Closing and relocking the doors, Hermione engaged the machine again. With any luck, they'd find themselves back in the present.


	23. Hope's Rainbow

"It seems to have worked," Dumbledore said, as the machine vanished from sight. "That's good to see."

"We did test it, you know," Kurt said. "I earned those NEWTs."

Harry looked from Kurt to Dumbledore, convinced there was a story behind this, when the skeleton cleared his throat. It was an impressive noise, considering Sans didn't actually have a throat to clear.

"ah, we should go find flowey and bring him here before they get back," Sans told the group, sticking his hands in pockets. "i'd like someone with me just in case he got up on the wrong side of the flower bed this morning."

"I can't," said Kurt. "I need to be ready to block off the entrance if Flowey tries to run."

"I'll go," volunteered Harry. "I'd like to see more of the underground, and the others should stay together, right?" Dumbledore looked concerned at this. "I probably was in more danger last night, sir."

"i kept frisk safe through the underground," Sans said. He winked, "i promise we won't do anything boneheaded."

Harry eyed the skeleton. Ron let out another groan.

"Very well," said Dumbledore. "Do be careful, Harry. Remember that he is soulless, which could make him very dangerous. Stay close to Mr. Sans. You didn't think to bring your cloak, did you?

"No. I didn't think I needed it."

"Pity," Dumbledore said. "Good luck, stay safe."

Sans led the way though a stone stairwell into a long hall, that must have looked out onto an opening in the mountain, because it was covered in daylight.

"How far is it to the sunlit room?" asked Harry. He had a ton of questions he wanted to ask Sans, now that they were separated from the others. But that seemed like the question to break the ice with.

"oh, it's about a good half of a day's walk," said Sans, his eyelights glinting in the sunlight. Harry gave a start of surprise. "heh, heh, it'll be fine. i know plenty of shortcuts." With that vague comment, he took Harry's hand, detoured around a pillar, and vanished both of them out of sight.

They came up alongside a grey, colorless, stone house. "nice shortcut, huh?" Sans said, walking down the path away from the house. "That's the king's old home. he's not lived there for a while, but i think he'd appreciate it we didn't go tromping through it."

Harry's stomach felt like it'd just gone through a dive after a snitch that was near the pitch itself. "What was that?" Harry asked. "Apparition?"

"uh, that's wizard for 'teleport' right?" he shrugged. "maybe? i just know quicker ways to get between certain places."

They were walking along a cave ledge, overlooking what must have been the monster capital. Harry could see buildings, all hollowed from the rock itself. "This must have taken ages to build. How far below ground are we?"

"a very long way," Sans said. "couldn't go out. could only go so far up. down was the only way left. ah, here we are." They'd turned a corner, coming face to face with what could only be an elevator shaft. Sans pushed the button, opening the door.

To Harry's surprise, the floor was covered with what looked like vines, leaves, and other herbology debris. Sans stepped inside, and Harry followed after. Sans eyed the buttons, but instead of pressing one, he pushed a complex sequence of floors. "we'll cut through alphy's lab. but she didn't take visitors often, so you had to know the code," he explained. "sorry for the mess. flowey used it recently. tried to clean up after him."

The elevator door closed behind them, and Harry was taken for another ride, as this elevator didn't go gently up and down. It moved quickly, and lurched side to side too (which must have been monster magic), so his stomach lurched this way and that with it. And all the while, Sans stood there, grinning at him, with hands in his pockets. When they finally arrived in what must have been Alphys's lab, Harry stumbled out, feeling more than a little sick.

"heh, hope you deal with rivers better. but we get to walk just a bit first."

They walked down through the well lit lab, past a stairway, toward a screen that... "Wait, is that me?" Harry asked, looking around to try to find what was recording him. He finally spotted it, in ceiling, a small black semisphere that must have been hiding the camera.

"yeah. we installed cameras for the original scientist in all sorts of places. he wanted to keep an eye out for anomalies he thought he detected around the underground. alphys used them to monitor frisk's progress."

"Original scientist?" Harry asked.

"eh. don't think most people remember him," Sans replied. He moved to the console in front of the monitor, and pressed a few buttons. The screen switched images, showing a large golden flower looking up at something out of the camera's viewpoint. "oh, good, still there."

He led Harry out of the lab, and down to a dock on a river. Waiting for them was a cloaked individual standing on a long wooden boat. Sans stepped lightly down onto the boat, and Harry followed behind.

"I am the river person. Where are we going today?" it asked them without turning around.

"snowden," Sans told him. Her. Whichever. The river person didn't so much as start paddling, but the boat began to move, upriver no less.

"Sans?" Harry finally asked. "Can I ask a question?"

"why not?" Sans asked. "you just did."

"We... I mean, Frisk, and I, and other few others. We helped someone that we didn't know if we should have helped. Hermione asked if Frisk could look at his soul. It was yellow, mixed with black. She said she thought the black was 'LOVE'."

Sans looked back at Harry quickly, his eyelights had dimmed, and Harry began to lean precariously out of the boat before realizing what he was doing.

"No," Sans said. "LOVE... that kind of LOVE, is something that happens when you try to prevent yourself from forming emotional attachments. If you could see enough of a soul to think it was black, there wasn't a lot of LOVE in it." His eyelights blinked back on, and Harry began to catch his breath. "black, though. not sure. the science of souls isn't really my bag, so to speak. you should ask alphys."

"Alright," Harry said, still more than a little shaken from Sans's sudden change in tone. "What about pink?" he asked, but Sans just shook his skull negatively.

They rode in silence for a while, as the air got colder.

"Tra-la-la", the river person hummed, to fill the silence. "The man who speaks with hands still watches from outside."

"I know," Sans said, but he didn't elaborate, and Harry wasn't going to ask him to.

Snowdin was aptly named. Harry's shoes crunched across the ground. "Should have brought my cloak," Harry acknowledged. "How far is it?"

"eh, far enough that we're taking a shortcut," Sans said. For a second time, he took hold of Harry's hand, passing behind a tree. When his vision cleared, he was, again, coming up alongside a stone house that looked eerily identical to the first one. This one, though, seemed to be rather more colorful than stark grey stone... though the dying tree in front didn't fill him with confidence. It also was an area that was distinctly more cave like than anything had yet seen in the underground.

Sans ducked inside the house, emerging a moment later with a ceramic flowerpot that he tucked inside his jacket somewhere. "might not need it. but we might," he said. He led Harry through a maze of ruins, past some fake looking spikes, and down a really long corridor. The room they stopped in was dark, with only a narrow strip of what might have been sunlight coming in from the next room.

"next room's the sunlit room," Sans said. "you should probably wait here, though. i think there's two ways this could go. he might just wait for me to talk to him. let's hope he does that." Sans's eyelights dimmed slightly. "otherwise, he probably comes to you out here. so you might want to be ready to defend yourself until I get back."

"Alright," Harry said, pulling out his wand. Sans, and the flowerpot disappeared through the next passage. But he had only been gone for what might have been a minute when...

"Howdy!"

Harry's wand was at the ready as he spun around. From behind him a large golden flower had sprouted. And it was looking at him, with black beady eyes and a smiling face. He'd seen an image of Flowey, Sans had warned him, but the look of the flower still took Harry by surprise.

"I'm Flowey. Flowey the flower!" he introduced himself. His voice was the highest pitched, almost nasal, voice Harry had ever heard. "You must be new down here, aren'tcha?" the flower asked him.

"Actually," Harry said. "We were looking for you," he tried to begin.

"You were?" the flower asked. "Golly! You must know I'm the right flower to show you how things work around here!" And Harry could feel it. While Frisk's use of soul magic had been a gentle request, barely noticeable, even when you were expecting it, Flowey's felt like a demand, and Harry could feel his soul being dragged out against his will.

"Sans!" Harry cried out in alarm. "Flowey's out here!"

The flower paused momentarily. "Smiley trashbag is down here? With a human? Guess I need to get your soul before he comes back to find me." Around him, five things that looked like pure white seeds floated in the air, before homing in on Harry.

He dodged four of them, crying out in pain as the fifth one found its mark. "Asriel!" he cried out, "please, stop!"

Flowey glared at him, which was actually a pretty odd look. "You think I'm going to stop because you know that name? I may have been that person once, but I'm not him any more. And I'm not _going_ to be him ever again, am I? So I'm just going to take what I can get." He fired more seeds at Harry, another one striking Harry's soul.

"Asriel, Frisk is here! She went to get.."

Flowey froze. In a completely different, almost childlike human voice he asked, "Frisk is here? She promised me! She was going to leave and live her life. With our... with her family." His voice reverted to the high nasal Flowey voice. "I guess we weren't _really_ friends."

"No! She found a way to..."

Flowey fired more seeds at Harry, and he dove out of the way, wracking his brain for spells he could use to simply defend against the hostile flower. "Obscuro!" he cried, aiming a blinding jinx at Flowey.

Sensing the oncoming magic, Flowey simply pulled his body into the ground, and it passed harmlessly over his head. He popped back up, looking surprised. "A wizard, huh? I wonder how powerful **your** soul would be." A ring of seeds surrounded Harry.

"She's gone to get your soul! From the past! You could be Asirel again!" Harry cried out.

"My soul?" sneered Flowey. "My soul shattered with my true form a long time ago."

All of a sudden, a ring of ethereal white bones surrounded Harry, deflecting the onrushing seeds. "might want to listen to the young wizard, flowey. why settle for one soul when you can take a shot a seven. and your own as well," Sans said, appearing almost from nowhere.

"She found a way to retrieve it from the past, Asriel. She's waiting for you," Harry added.

Flowey stared at them, saying nothing, but whether he was starting to believe them, or just afraid of Sans, Harry wasn't actually sure.

"so i got a deal for you. come with me," Sans produced the flower pot. "and you'll get a crack at your body again. i can promise that to you," he knelt down and looked the flower right in the beady eyes. "May Papyrus not forgive me if I'm lying."

"You're serious. Fine... I'll go with you," Flowey said. He was halfway underground, before Sans interrupted with a tutting noise.

"nah. you'll come _with_ me," and quick as lightning, he pulled the indignant flower out of the ground and placed him in the flowerpot.

"let's go," Sans told Harry, as Flowey sputtered his protests.

* * *

When Frisk and Hermione returned to the present, Sans and Harry were still both gone.

When they'd retrieved Chara's body from Sans's machine, Dumbledore performed some sort of charm over it. He then levitated it onto a conjured stretcher, and taken it to the cave mouth, leaving them in the care of Mr. Kairos. When he returned, he was empty handed. "I have sent young Chara ahead to Hogwarts. Madame Pomfrey will need some time to repair the damage buttercup poison directly does to the body. Now, may I see the soul you retrieved?"

Hermione held out the bottle, and Dumbledore took it into hand, examining it carefully. He looked from the bottle to Frisk and back again. As they did, Frisk began to wonder about that soul. She remembered thoughts she had, what Asgore had said a few months ago, what Asriel had told Frisk about her, how she hated humanity.

How deep had that hatred run? Frisk didn't know, and she wasn't getting an answer.

When Sans came climbing back up into the room, about half an hour later, everyone but Opal had grown bored. Hermione had pulled out textbooks to study, Ginny had engaged a few others in exploding snap, and Ron was pacing nervously.

Sans placed the flower pot in the center of the room, and stepped back with Harry, Kurt, Hermione and Dumbledore near the entrance. Flowey's eyes took everyone in. "Who's all this?" he asked, and Frisk recognized he was using Asriel's voice.

"People who've become my friends during my year at Hogwarts. People who've had the chance to learn about you, to meet our mom, and have learned that you're down here, cursed to be soulless. They're here to give hope," Frisk said, stepping forward, kneeling down to talk to the flower at eye level.

"There's no hope for me. I'm not taking a soul from them... Frisk?" he began, then he saw the light that was shining in her soul. It was a bright, red, determined light. And with it, a separate, silver light. "That's... that's a monster soul. Did you really..."

"It's your soul, Asriel," Frisk said, as the others stepped forward, to create a circle around him. "Take what you need."

Flowey said nothing. He turned to each of them in turn, not daring to believe what he was hearing.

Ron, with his orange soul ready to speak his mind, and show his bravery (as long as spiders weren't involved), nodded. "We can do this, we're ready."

Neville, last to volunteer, but only because he was the last to discover the task, and his just yellow soul. "It's only fair. You were brave enough to help someone you didn't know, right? How can we do less?"

Ginny, her green soul showing her kindness. Kindness enough to befriend a lost, lonely adopted child on her first day at Hogwarts. Twice. "No one should be alone, and you're not."

Opal, with a light blue soul patient enough to try to befriend the unfriendable... and patient enough to see Frisk on the broom for as long as it took. "It's alright, we know what we're risking. It's worth it."

Luna, her faith and willingness to be true to herself shining with her dark blue soul. "You need help, right? Daddy says it's never bad to ask for help."

Last, but not least, Stephen, his purple soul displaying his value for setting his sights high, and the perseverance to stick with it. "You can do this. We trust you."

One at a time, Flowey sent out an almost tentacle like vine to each of the souls around him. It felt like a pinprick piercing Frisk's chest and her soul. Around her came soft mumbles of pain. It hurt, even if nobody wanted to admit it. She could feel it, pulling on her soul, and it was a draining sensation.

For a moment, Frisk's vision went white. Then, what might have been minutes, or merely moments later, Frisk came to.

Flowey was gone.

In his place stood Asriel, wearing the same green and gold striped shirt she had seen him in so many times before. The others were staring at him. Frisk could feel him calling for his soul, and she let it go, joyously. But before it vanished inside him, she could see a surrounding coat of color, a small piece of each other person's soul, supporting it, keeping him from ever having to turn into Flowey again. And, in that instant, she knew. This wasn't damage, these pieces, given freely, would be replaced. Healed, by the souls they came from.

Asirel stumbled, unused to his feet, and fell unceremoniously to the ground.

He was crying.

Frisk, stumbling herself, hurried over to him. She helped lift him back to his feet, his green eyes shining. "I was so tired," he said, "of being a flower. And I thought I was going to be one forever. And... I can feel. I can feel each and every one of you. I had forgotten what it meant to feel others." He turned and clasped Frisk in a furry embrace. "Thank you."

Luna approached first, tapping the sobbing monster child on the shoulder. He released Frisk to look at her outstretched arms, and took the offered hug. The others came too, and though most of them seemed to expect a mere handshake, Asriel was having none of it, he embraced them all.

After that all, Frisk introduced him to Kurt and Professor Dumbledore, explaining their roles.

"And you," Asriel said, addressing Sans, "Do you even know how much of an apology I owe you, Sans?"

Sans shrugged, but he looked happy. "pretty big one, i think. my next burger's on you. but after that, don't worry about it. pretty hard living without a soul, so i can cut you slack. for me, anyway."

"Thank you," Asriel replied.

"I think it is time we returned to Hogwarts," the headmaster said. "There are, after all, people waiting for us there."

"I know..." Frisk began. "People?" she asked hesitantly. Could it be?

"Mom... Dad!" whispered Asriel, and he tried to hurry toward the Underground's exit, but he still wasn't used to his feet, and tripped a second time.

Frisk helped him up, and they all headed out into the midday sun, ready to take the trip back to Hogwarts.


	24. Do you forgive? (Y N)

They were going back to the Headmaster's office. It was important they not try to appear where anyone was likely to be, and while the plateau was large enough that was a very unlike problem, Hogwarts rooms were not. Both Sans and Kurt wanted to come with them, to see the reactions of the king and queen. Dumbledore had thought carefully. "There's already going to be enough people that Poppy will be chewing me out," Dumbledore said. "But she's unlikely to have any other patients, so I think she will complain, but that it will be fine."

"That seems fair, thank you Albus," Kurt said. He went first, with Sans, Neville, Harry, Ron, and Ginny with him. They took hold of the red flying disc and vanished from view.

"We'll give them a couple minutes to clear the office before we return ourselves," Dumbledore explained. "Or it will be very crowded in my office."

"Headmaster," Hermione said. "I thought you couldn't apparate or disapparate from inside Hogwarts. I remember reading it in 'Hogwarts: a History'. Does a portkey get around that somehow?"

"Ah, most of the time, it would not. But you must understand, headmasters have been known to make exceptions to the rules from time to time. In important situations like this, for example." He winked at her. "It's one of the lesser known perks of being in charge of the school."

Asriel was still standing in the sunlight, looking out into the world, just as his parents had when they'd first been released from the barrier. "I never thought I'd see this. I thought I was going to be a flower forever."

Frisk just smiled. "We always were going to find a way. I know what I promised, but I would have never forgotten. I hated leaving you behind." They stood, just watching the world for a few more minutes, until Dumbledore said it was safe for them to depart.

Frisk tugged at Asriel's sleeve. "Let's go. I don't think we're done with the miracles today." Allowing the monster to lean on her, they waited for Dumbledore to count them down, and took their own portkey back to the office.

The office was empty of everyone except Fawkes, sitting on his perch, and Sans, who had stationed himself on top of the stairway. "didn't want to get too far in front of you," he said, "didn't want to scare any students out of their skin."

"Very wise of you, Sans," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. "I assume everyone else has headed down to the hospital wing?"

"yep," Sans said. He drew up the hood on his jacket, covering his skull.

"Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore said as they left, addressing Hermione, "I believe I will need Professor McGonagall's assistance in our last task today. Would you kindly go to her office and ask her to meet us?"

Hermione nodded, turning the other way from the grand staircase, while the rest of them headed towards the hospital wing.

When Asriel saw the beds, he was confused. "Why are we here?" he asked. "My parents aren't here," he said, looking around. The others from the mountain were there, including Mr. Kairos, but they were all standing back. They were watching Madam Pomfrey perform a charm on someone lying on the only occupied bed.

"Is that it, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked as he rounded out the procession into the hospital wing.

"Yes," Madam Pomfrey said. She looked up, appearing uncomfortable with all of the people invading her workspace. She looked at Sans with momentary shock. "Is that a student?" she asked, horrified. Then she must have seen the eyelights. "Or is that one of Frisk's friends? She's told me about them," she said, shaking her head.

Sans just grinned at her.

"But headmaster, this child is, as far as I can tell, dead. There's nothing I, or anyone else, can do to help her. Her soul has moved on."

Asriel looked up. "Who are you..." he stepped to the side, seeing the person on the bed for the first time. "Chara?" he asked. He tried to run to his fallen friend, but for the third time in the hour, he tripped, face planting on the stone floor. "Ow."

"Oh," Madam Pomfrey said, "You poor thing." She reached down, helping Asriel back to his feet. She held onto him, as Asriel struggled to reach out to his friend. "She's not going anywhere, here. You should lay down, I think. Or at least sit on a bed."

Asriel was about to protest, looked up at Madam Pomfrey's face, and decided against it. He climbed on the neighboring bed, looking across the space between them. "It is Chara," he said swallowing. "Did you bring her soul back, too?" he asked, "Like you brought mine?"

"Asriel has guessed correctly," Dumbledore said, holding out the bottle that contained Chara's damaged soul. Madam Pomfrey stared at it. "For whatever reason, this girl's soul did **not** move on. We have brought it here." He looked directly at Frisk, and his face was grave. "To attempt to reconnect the soul to the body, though I do not know what will happen next. It is likely we only will have one chance."

Hermione came in through the door, and following her was Professor McGonagall.

"Excellent timing, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "I think this is going to take all three of us if we are to help young Chara here."

McGonagall observed Asriel, watching from the bed, and gave Frisk a small smile. "I see you have retrieved young Mr. Dreemurr," she said. "Congratulations." She turned back to the headmaster. "How will we be doing that?"

"The rennervate charm, I think," Dumbledore said. "It is a guess, but it is my best one. Poppy, is there anything we should be ready to do, in case this does work?"

"If I understood your note, she poisoned herself with buttercups. I've repaired the acid damage to the throat before you came. So I think a bezoar would do the trick." She walked to the cupboard, withdrew an ugly looking lump, opened Chara's mouth, and placed it on the tongue.

"Very good. Come here, Frisk," he handed the jar to Frisk, and withdrew his own wand. "When Frisk gives the signal, I would like all three of us to cast the spell simultaneously. Are we in agreement?" Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall nodded, each of them drawing out their wands. "Go ahead Frisk," Dumbledore said.

Frisk walked next to, and reached over Chara's body, and opened the jar. Her heart was in her throat. This needed to work. The broken soul floated free for a moment, up and down, before descending into the body, vanishing from view. Frisk silently looked over to Dumbledore and nodded, retreating to the edge of the room. Around her, Ginny, Opal, Neville, Luna, Stephen, and Ron, all of whom had risked their souls to bring back Asriel, as well as Harry, Hermione, Sans, and Kurt, watched as the two professors and professional healer raised their wands. Asriel was sitting up, staring at Chara, as if willing her back to life with his stare alone.

"On three then," Dumbledore said, and together he, Professor McGonagall, and Madame Pomfrey pointed at the unmoving body. "One, two, three," he counted. "Rennervate!" they said together, and three beams of red light struck Chara's body.

Chara's body spasmed, swallowing the beezor, and for a moment, Frisk was convinced Chara was moving on her own. Then the moment passed. Frisk looked up desperately at Dumbledore, her eyes pleading.

"One more time," Dumbledore said without acknowledging Frisk. "On three. One, two, three. Rennervate!" Chara's body spasmed again.

This time, the sound of her breathing filled Frisk with determination.

But after about a minute, something was clearly wrong. "She still looks so pale," Hermione said. After another few seconds, the breathing stopped, and Chara's soul did not reappear.

"No," whispered several of the students. Frisk could feel Ginny's hand on her shoulder, squeezing it for support. Asriel still sat, shell shocked.

But it was Madam Pomfrey who took it the worst. "Her blood. It wasn't in circulation enough to distribute the beezor around the body. "She needed a blood replenishing potion. It should have worked, and it's my fault," she collapsed onto the floor, burying her hands face into her hands, and sobbing.

If that was all it would take, Frisk could fix it. She closed her eyes, remembering exactly how she felt the moment she heard Chara's breathing, and she would go...

 _Chara isn't worth it!_

The unbidden thoughts that entered her mind broke Frisk's concentration. But she was not going to be deterred. Not here, not now. She closed her eyes again, and focused on that exact moment in time, and she would...

 _Chara... I'm,_ _ **I'm**_ _not worth it!_

Frisk's eyes popped open as her concentration failed her again. "Everyone... everyone is 'Worth it'," she whispered, softly enough that nobody heard her.

 _You don't know what I did. I tried to take control of Asriel's body. To make him hurt people. I didn't care about humanity. I didn't care about myself. I only wanted monsters to destroy them all. How could_ _ **anyone**_ _who knows what I tried to do forgive me?_

"At that moment," Frisk whispered, "you may have been the worst person in the world... but you can change! You **have** changed, this whole time you were with me. In the underground, telling me how to make friends with the monsters, with Buckbeak, the hippogriff, and with Neville, asking not to leave him. You **have changed!** I know what you did. And I forgive you. I forgive you." Her voice had gotten somewhat louder, though no one was looking at her yet; they were too focused on Madam Pomfrey's sobs.

 _I killed myself. Her son died because of me. She went to live_ _ **alone**_ _because of what I did. Mom... Mom would_ _ **never**_ _forgive me._

"Mom," Frisk repeated, "Mom keeps a chocolate bar in the fridge. It's got your name on it, just in case, somehow, you come home! Mom **would** forgive you, she just wants her daughter to come home." And people were looking at her in confusion now, as the tears of two souls were streaming down her cheeks.

 _I got his son killed. Dad ordered people to die because of what I did. I made his wife leave him. Because of me, Dad tried to kill you. Dad would_ _ **never**_ _forgive me._

"Dad," Frisk said, and her voice was bordering on hysterics, "I think he knows what you did, and Dad blames himself. For putting too much pressure on you. He just wants to see Asriel, and you, again. You heard what they said. They both miss you. Dad **would** forgive you."

 _And Asriel, Asriel knows everything. You remember what he said! I am not a very good person. You are the friend he wanted, the one he deserves Frisk. Not me. Not me, not at all. Asriel would_ _ **never**_ _forgive me._

Frisk's head snapped up and she stepped forward. "Asriel!" she said, no longer caring who heard her. "She needs to hear it. She needs to hear it from you. Do you forgive Chara? You know what she did. Can you forgive her?"

"Frisk," Ginny said, trying to take Frisk's arm. "Chara's dead. She can't hear anything anymore. It's... it's alright."

But Frisk shook Ginny off. "Asriel! She needs to hear it from you! Do you forgive her?"

Asriel stared at Frisk. Then he reached up, his hand searching for something around his neck that wasn't there. "Chara was my sister," Asriel said. "My best friend. And I forgive her. I forgive her for everything."

For a moment, there were no foreign thoughts in Frisk's mind, and Frisk went back.

* * *

"Rennervate!" said Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Madam Pomfrey together. Chara's body spasmed a second time, and she began to breath.

After several seconds, Ron spoke up. "You're right Hermione, she does still look pale."

Hermione stared at him. "I didn't say that Ron, I was thinking it... but how did you know that?"

"Hey," Harry said. "Where'd Frisk go?"

Frisk had torn her way to the supply cabinet, climbing dangerously up the shelves to reach a red bottle on the top shelf.

"Asriel!" Opal said, alarmed, "You should be sitting down still!"

Asriel had gotten out of his bed, staggering on his feet. Opal hurried forward, letting Asriel lean against her body. "She needs to hear it," he said. "She needs to hear it from me." He took Chara's still hand in his paws. "Chara?" he asked, tears beginning to mat the fur under his eyes, "Chara? Are you there? Please say you're there. **It's me!** It's your brother... it's your best friend. It's Asriel... and I forgive you! Hold on, please! I can't lose you again! Please hold on!" Tears continued to stream down his face.

Frisk ran back to the side of the bed, clutching the red bottle, and fumbling with the stopper.

"A blood replenishing potion," Madam Pomfrey said, "Of course! I'll handle the mouth, Frisk, pour in the potion. Not the entire thing, she's not an adult!"

Frisk's hands were shaking, but she got enough of it into Chara that the healer told her to stop. There was silence for another few seconds, and color began to slowly return to Chara's cheeks. Only then did she step back, and realize Dumbledore was staring at her. Sans was looking at her as well, but his hands were in his pockets, and he gave her a wink.

"Such rosy cheeks," Madam Pomfrey said, "I hope we didn't use too much potion, Frisk. I'd hate to have to bleed her after all this."

Frisk felt a gentle tugging on her soul. It was something that had been with her a long time now. Something ready, and finally able, to leave her. To go home.

 _Thank you, Frisk_. _For my brother. For everybody and everything... and for me._

"Please hold on," Asriel whispered again. Then his mouth dropped open in shock.

Chara had opened her eyes, and had grabbed his paw in her own hand. "It was a bad plan, Asriel, it was a bad plan, and..." she stopped, looking around the cluster of people on the bed. "Where am I, and who are all these people? What happened?"

Dumbledore stepped back, clapped his hands, and called a name. With a crack, a small creature that Frisk didn't recognize appeared at his side. He leaned down, speaking to him quietly. The small creature nodded eagerly, and disappeared again. Professor McGonagall began to speak to him in low tones.

But Frisk wasn't paying attention. "This is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My name is Frisk Dreemurr."

Chara stared at her, then at Asriel. "Hogwarts is above ground. The barrier's broken?"

"Yes," Frisk said. "It has been. Monsters are on the surface now." She began to detail how that had happened, but she didn't get far before Dumbledore interrupted her.

"You may want to save that, Ms. Dreemurr," he said, his eyes twinkling. "After all, most people don't like to repeat themselves."

"What?" asked Frisk, turning toward him in confusion.

If he had been hoping that someone was going to walk through the door right after he said that, he was disappointed. His timing was a bit off. It was another three or four minutes before the door was opened, and that same small creature escorted in Toriel and Asgore Dreemurr. Everyone not named Frisk backed away, giving them a chance to see the children waiting for them. Toriel and Asgore looked petrified, still expecting to hear something tragic had happened to Frisk.

For about about the span of two heartbeats, there was absolute, perfect, silence.

"Mom, Dad," whispered Asriel.

"Asriel?" said Toriel. She stood, dumbfounded, staring at her son, her large green eyes wider than cinnamon and butterscotch pie plates.

"Chara..." said Asgore, staring, open mouthed, at the first fallen child.

Then they raced forward toward the beds, everything else, and everyone else, forgotten, to hold the children they thought consigned to their memories. Frisk looked around, confirming there was not a single dry eye in the entire hospital wing. Even Dumbledore wasn't immune, taking out a large handkerchief, and dabbing his eyes behind his spectacles.

One by one, the other students filed out. They were content to know that they'd been part of something truly special. Perhaps a miracle. Mr. Kairos, Professor Dumbledore, Sans, and Professor McGonagall all left as well. Even Madam Pomfrey retreated to her office, closing the door, content to leave the Dreemurrs to have their reunion in private.

Frisk had started to back away herself, feeling uncomfortable, but Chara had looked her right in the face and asked, "Where does my sister think she's going?"

"Get over here, Frisk," Asriel demanded.

Asgore and Toriel both turned toward her, and for the first time, the Dreemurr family had a hug with all members present, and accounted for.

It would not be the last.

 _A/N: About half to two thirds of this chapter has been written for a very long time. When I told it to myself, on one of my long evening walks, I had to stop, because I was crying. That's how I knew I got it right. It's been a long road, and it's not quite over yet._


	25. A Family of Dreemurrs

It was several minutes before emotions calmed enough for anyone to really understand anything.

"How is any of this possible?" Toriel asked, finally able to release Asriel.

Frisk was just about to launch into everything that had happened when the small creature that had escorted Mom and Dad to the hospital wing had approached the small group. "Excuse me, Misters and Misses. Dumbledore has asked Dobby to show you to a place where you may be more comfortable together."

"That would be very kind of you," Asgore rumbled. "And we can give your healer her hospital wing back."

"I'll be just a moment," Frisk said as they headed to the exit. She knocked on the office door, and a moment later, Madam Pomfrey opened it for her. "I just wanted to say thank you. For helping to save Chara," she said quietly. She looked up to see Madam Pomfrey's face, tear stained but smiling. "I'll be back next year. Not as a patient."

"I look forward to it," she told her. "Thank you for your help this year."

Dobby led them up to a hallway on the seventh floor that was actually not far from the Gryffindor common room, though Frisk didn't think she'd actually been down this particular one. The door was across from a large woven tapestry. Toriel stopped to stare at it, "Is that man getting clobbered by trolls?"

Everyone turned to look at it, and indeed, the man in it was getting repeatedly clubbed on the head by trolls. "I guess they didn't want to be ballet dancers," Chara said, still staring.

"Come, come," squeaked Dobby, and he led the way into a comfortable looking sitting room. There was two large chairs for Asgore and Toriel, and smaller chairs for Chara, Frisk, and Asriel. A warm fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, and a large portrait of a young woman looked down on them from over it. Another of the small creatures eyed them as they came in, gave Dobby a disgusted look, and pushed past him to leave the room.

"Sorry for the other house elves. They do not care for Dobby much," Dobby apologized. "But if you needs anything. Please simply call for me," he continued, bobbing his head. "And the room will vanish if you all leave, so be careful. Don't leave anything behind."

"Thank you Dobby," Toriel said.

The little house elf bowed again, left the room, and there was again, an audible crack from outside the room.

The Dreemurrs all sat down, and Frisk began again to tell them the story of how seven unlikely students of Hogwarts had come to rescue the princes of monsters. She started the tale in the underground, telling her adoptive parents the story of Asriel-as-Flowey the first time. She saw Toriel put her paw up to her mouth as she described it, and Frisk knew why. How often had she heard Mom describe Flowey as that miserable little creature?

But she continued, into discovering Hermione's time travel. She was interrupted when came to making the plan with Sans by Toriel. "You mean to tell me," she asked, "That Dumbledore allowed seven children to risk their souls..."?

"They were so sure," said Asriel. "They were there, in the hospital wing. You saw them."

And Frisk explained how Dumbledore was there, and how they'd each gotten permission from their parents.

"But not from... that weasel," Toriel said, remembering the conversation she'd had after her guest lecture. "He directly asked me if if I would approve of you risking yourself to save people. I said yes."

"It was worth it," said Chara, "Wasn't it?"

"I'm going to read any permission slips that get sent to me twice," Toriel promised. Then her voice softened as she looked at Asriel and Chara, then back at Frisk."Yes. It was worth it. It was completely worth it."

Frisk went back a bit, talking about how Dumbledore has found proof they'd gone back in time, and thus set Mr. Kairos to assist Sans in making his time machine.

"I had no idea Sans was working on anything like that," Asgore said. "I'll have to ask him about it. I wonder why."

Then she finished with their trip earlier that day. "And that's where you came in," Frisk finished.

"How did you come to Hogwarts, anyway?"

"We got a letter from Dumbledore at about noon by owl," Toriel said. "About an event of great importance to your child. The 'Knight Bus' has been called and will pick you up, and drop you off at Hogwarts, where you will be escorted in by Professor Flitwick. Then we waited for a little while, talking with him in his office. He tried to keep us positive, but we thought up all sorts of terrible reasons we might have been called here. Then we were called down by Dobby. I never guessed what we'd find."

She looked like she was about to start crying again, but held herself. "Asgore, you were about to tell me where you've been disappearing to when the owl came."

"I was, wasn't I?" Asgore said, looking at Chara for a moment. He sighed. "As you know, eight children fell, at various times, into the underground. I have been to see seven pairs of parents, telling them how they died, and taking blame for their loss."

"Asgore," Toriel said, aghast. "That could restart the war... didn't you think..."

"Hiding it from them almost certainly would have restarted the war," Asgore said. "But I took full responsibility. I'm the one that made the declaration. It is my job to take my responsibility. Mostly they've been grieved, but understanding. After all... I had just lost my children to a human attack."

"Dad," Frisk said nervously, "You said seven. Eight children fell underground. Did you find mine?"

"No," Asgore said. "We've tried everything we can think of. But there's no record of you anywhere. We can't even find a non magical birth certificate. I'm sorry, Frisk."

"Who," Toriel said, "Would give up a child like you?"

"It doesn't matter, not anymore," Frisk said. "I have a family now. That's all I ever wanted."

Asriel, however, had turned to Chara. Her face was as pale as Asriel's fur. "Chara, are you okay?"

"Does that mean," Chara asked, unable to look at Asgore directly, "That you've been to Azkaban?"

Asgore looked at Chara for several seconds before he finally replied. "I did. I've met your parents."

Chara's brown eyes looked up at the large monster, but Frisk couldn't see any hope, only fear. "What did they say?" she asked.

Asgore looked down, studying the carpet on the floor of the room. He looked like he really did not want to answer that question. Frisk was reminded of her conflicts with him, when he could not meet her eyes. Finally, he spoke, "They were surprised, and disappointed."

Chara looked like she was doing her best not to completely melt down. "I knew it. I knew it. They sent me up there to die. I wasn't supposed to come back." Asriel reached out his paw, taking his sister's hand.

"What do you mean?" asked Toriel in shock.

"My name was Chara Malfoy. My parents were death eaters. They were followers of... V... of... the dark lord," she finally managed to say.

"Wait," Frisk said, in shock. "Draco is your brother?" Then she remembered, she had called him 'little' Draco.

"No, he's my cousin. Lucius Malfoy is my uncle... my birth father's brother. On the day that I took my fall into Mt. Ebott, my parents got an owl saying they'd been revealed to the ministry, and that aurors were coming for them. The letter pleaded with them to claim to be under his control, it gave them names they could give to the aurors. But they wouldn't betray the dark lord."

Frisk got a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach. Chara hadn't said who betrayed her parents, but she got the implication far too well.

"They looked at me, and said I wasn't to be raised by blood traitors. They put an enchantment on me... it felt like I was lost in a dream. They apparated me to Mt. Ebott, and suggested I leave them and climb it. And I did. I didn't even realize they'd left me there. When I found the hole I felt compelled to jump. I think I was starting to fight it... I didn't jump at first. But it didn't matter, I tripped on a root, and fell. And that's where you found me, Asriel. The shock of the fall jolted the curse off."

"They fought the ministry afterward," Asgore said. "Or so I was told. Non magical humans were hurt and killed in the fighting."

"I wish I was surprised. They did some pretty bad things. I watched," Chara said.

"You are not your parents," Toriel said. "You're Chara... you're my..."

"I have something else to tell you," Chara said quietly, glancing at Frisk. "About when I died..."

But Chara was interrupted by a knock on the door. Frisk stood, and went to open it. Lupin was standing on the other side, holding a natty looking briefcase, an empty tank sitting on the floor beside it. "Professor Lupin!" she exclaimed. She took him by the hand, and almost dragged him into the sitting room. "Mom, Dad, everyone, this is my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lupin,"

He looked surprised at the rooms contents, but recovered quickly. "Well. It is a pleasure to meet you all, but I am no longer her teacher." Frisk rounded on him with an open mouth, unable to articulate her surprise. "I resigned today. The Daily Prophet, quoting an unnamed ministry source, probably Macnair overheard something, has exposed me as a werewolf teaching at Hogwarts. I expect by this time tomorrow, Dumbledore's office will be a parliament of owls.

"But that's not fair, just because you're a werewolf..." Frisk started. "You were a great teacher, that's what's important."

"But the board of governors won't see it that way. This is for the best, Frisk."

Asgore got up, and walked to him. "They'll see you as just a 'monster'," he said. "I've dealt with enough of the ministry to know how they'll react. Do you have a place to go? I thought I understood teachers lived here at the castle."

"I do not have a place..." Lupin began.

Asgore immediately took a piece of paper out of a pocket, cast about for a pen, wrote something on it, and pressed it into Lupin's hand. "If you're a friend of Frisk's, then you deserve better than that. I have a spare room, you can stay with me until you find a place of your own."

"I can't accept this, I don't..."

"You can, and you should," Asgore insisted. He smiled. "After all, the ministry sees me as just a monster too." Toriel beamed at him.

Lupin stared at the piece of paper, and then placed it carefully in his pocket. "Thank you, Mr. Dreemurr. You are a good man. But I need to have a word with Frisk." Asgore stepped back into the sitting room. "Frisk, you asked me yesterday why your Boggart changed forms. I've had a chance to think, and I've come up with two explanations."

"The first, because you didn't have a chance to think about it before it showed up. You were moving too quickly because of the exam. In class, you were last, so you had a chance to dwell on what actually scared you," Lupin told her, "The other is that you knew what you could say to him," he nodded as Asriel, "You no longer felt like you had abandoned him."

Frisk would need time to think about it. "Thank you, Professor."

"Ah, and one last thing. Professor Dumbledore has called the Knight Bus for this evening for your parents and siblings. You may either go with them, or take the train home. Either way, there is the feast tonight. And if I didn't have enough bad news, I believe your friend Ginny has your grades," he said.

"Professor," Frisk said, holding out her arms, "I hope we'll see each other again."

"I hope so too, Frisk, you are an amazing young lady," Lupin said, smiling. He looked behind her at her adopted parents, and shook Frisk's hand instead."But I must go, my carriage is here. Take care, Frisk." And he was out the door, closing it behind him.

"Well," said Asgore as he retook his seat, "I imagine that's disappointing."

Frisk had to agree, as she went back to hers.

"I have to," whispered Chara to Asriel. She spoke up, so that everyone could hear her. "I still need to say something, about the day I died. I wasn't ill. I," and she stopped and had to force herself to get the next words out. "I poisoned myself. I wanted Asriel to take my soul, and find six other ones, so he could break the barrier. I wanted to start a war. It's... my fault any of this happened. Am I... can I still be your child?"

Asriel's paws gripped the side of his chair. Toriel and Asgore both stared at this admission for several seconds. Chara looked at Frisk with a knowing sad expression.

Toriel stood suddenly, rushing over to Chara, picking her up into a full body embrace. "You would have given up yourself... for us? Did you really think that little of yourself?"

Asgore had also stood, ready to hug his adopted daughter as well. "I knew... after I met your parents, why you hadn't told us anything about your family from the surface. And why you looked so upset when I said that you were the future of humans and monsters. I'm sorry. I put pressure on you that you shouldn't have had to endure. That is my fault. And you may have been Chara Malfoy when you fell. But you will _always_ be Chara Dreemurr to me."

Chara looked floored, then she closed her eyes, and hugged Mom as hard as she was being hugged. Exchanging smiles, Frisk and Asriel joined in as well.

* * *

They talked for a few hours more, until Asgore noted it was soon going to be time to take the bus. As much as Frisk wanted to spend some more time with her family, restored as it was, she wanted the chance to say goodbye to her friends more. Besides, she also had to pack.

The feast was a grand event, the tables covered with food, desserts, the great hall decorated in Gryffindor colors. There was still no cinnamon and butterscotch pie, but it was startling how different the hall felt compared to when she'd first entered it. She'd entered without any true friends among the human race, and she was leaving as (perhaps) one of the few that could claim friends in all four houses. Her grades were all passing, even if History of Magic was dicey, and she could claim an Outstanding in both Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. And she'd accomplished the full term project she'd never have expected when she stepped into Hogwarts. As school years went, she'd take it.

The next day, she took her haphazardly packed trunk and went down with the Gryffindors toward the carriages that would take them back to the Hogsmeade train station.

The train ride back to King's cross was a grand mixture of conversations. Luna, Ginny, Opal, and Frisk had all taken a compartment together, and various other members of the rescue team filtered in and out. Ron came in to show a new owl that a 'mysterious benefactor' (Frisk had a pretty good guess about who that might be) had given him, while Hermione confided after Harry and Ron had left that they both had given an actual apology for not speaking to her about Harry's firebolt. So that was nice.

Luna and Ginny talked incessantly about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. "Dad can normally get tickets, but I'll probably not be able to go," Ginny moped. "Mum's really protective of me." Frisk let them talk, Quidditch just wasn't her sport.

Steven and Neville had come in, asked how Frisk's parents had reacted, and joined the girls for a few hands of exploding snap. Steven, especially, had been disappointed to find out they hadn't taken the train back with them.

Through it all, Frisk was under orders to get contact information from each one of them. Mom had a plan to thank them all individually. Frisk wasn't sure what it was, but she was looking forward to finding out.

When they arrived at King's Cross, Ms. Oxtoby was there again to find her daughter, and this time to find Frisk as well, and make sure she had someone with her through the barrier into King's Cross proper. That was different too.

They met Mom much the same way they'd met her at Christmas break, by calling her and telling her Frisk was ready to be picked up outside. Papyrus was driving again, but this time, Mom was in the front seat, because both Asriel and Chara were piled in the back, and there simply wasn't room for anyone else. "We may need to see if Sans could get a license," Toriel said.

" **In my opinion, that is a terrible idea,"** Papyrus said. " **I think either you or Asgore would be much better drivers**."

"Oh," Toriel said, innocently, "Do you feel it in your bones?"

Papyrus, to his credit, didn't react. He was too focused on the road.


	26. Epilogues and an Author's Reflection

It was a Friday, and things for Frisk had really settled in. The three Dreemurr children spent most days exploring the British countryside around the house, even if they had to be careful of alerting non-magical humans to the presence of monsters.

Toriel and Asgore seemed to be on the precipice of reconciling, though she had not invited him to live with her again yet, in Frisk's opinion it was only a matter of time. After a few days, Lupin had shown up to Asgore's home to stay. Asgore had written to Dumbledore for a way to get in touch with the werewolf after he hadn't shown up the second night, and it got a response, in a way.

But this day, Toriel had invited Asgore to spend the evening with them, as they were to be having other guests. The home was a cornucopia of smells, everything from the required pie to (sadly) the garlicky whiff of snails.

Frisk, Chara, and Asriel had been required to spend the day cleaning up their rooms and other play areas. This probably would have elicited complaints, if they weren't excited about seeing the guests as well.

When the doorbell rang, Chara was quickest to react, but Frisk and Asriel were right on her heels. Standing on the other side of the threshold were the smiling Mr. and Ms. Oxtoby, and Opal.

And over the next few weeks, the Dreemurrs would welcome each of the children that helped saved Asriel, and their families. And Toriel, and the children, would cook dinner for them all, except for the Weasleys. Ms. Weasley had insisted in bringing dishes to share.

They'd talk, they'd eat, they'd play games (Asgore had developed a love of non-magical strategy board games. Ticket to Ride and Dominion were current favorites.) Then they'd talk some more over dessert.

It was the least they could do, and it provided a way for them to make true friends in the human magical world. As much as Frisk looked forward to going back to Hogwarts, she didn't want the summer to end, either.

At the end of the summer, letters came to the Dreemurr household. The first was Frisk's book list and equipment supplies that she would need for the second year at Hogwarts. The second was an invitation for Chara Dreemurr to attend Hogwarts, as well as a list of similar books and supplies that she would need. The third was an invitation for Asriel.

* * *

In the depths of the underground, two people stalked the halls. "You're sure about helping me with this?"

"I have to admit, the prospect of other possibilities intrigues me. We haven't been allowed to truly explore time for, well, a long time. And the idea that a magical mishap might make people you forget you ever existed is disturbing."

"I promised him I would never forget. And now I'm making a second promise." Sans looked at the machine, a single eye socket blazing with blue light. "I will put you back together."

* * *

Hi. I'm John "TheZorker" Burkhart, and that's "Harry Potter and the Underground's Saviour". This whole thing started with a single scene that I couldn't get out of my mind: The scene of Frisk, on the train, using the 'Stick' that you carry through the game as a wand, repelling a Dementor because it was powered with Toriel's fur.

When I posted that scene, I had no idea if I was going to turn it into a full story. I didn't have any grand plans for it. I wasn't even sure which house I should put her in. I really wanted to put her in Hufflepuff, because how many main characters get put into Hufflepuff? In the end, and after conversations with friends, I slotted her into Gryffindor. While it made other things easier, it still feels like kind of a cop out, but I'm satisfied with it.

After the amazing response I got to the first chapter, I started thinking what I could do to make a full tale out of it. I initially was going to make it more of a 'slice of life' like chapters 2 and 3 were, with a scene of Monster Integration leading into a few Hogwarts scenes. But I just couldn't make it work. Do I have a scene of Woshua literally 'Cleaning up' the ministry of magic? How does that work?

What really made me change gears, though, was a thought that struck me on one of my nightly walks. "What happens when..." I began, and went through several statements. "Learns about Animagi. Learns transfiguration. That the Fat Lady is attacked. Finds out about wizard time travel"... and that stopped me. Because the answer to that last one is, "Goes to find Asriel's soul". I too, am a sucker for Save Fics (and think CourierNew's 'One By One' is quite possibly the best fanfiction I've ever read. The idea that Asgore is going to apologize for the children is found there first. It shows up here because I can't imagine Asgore not doing that anymore.)

That was one of the two moments of perfect clarity that I had. The other was when I was going through the conversation with Sans about Frisk's plan. He wanted to know what I was going to do with the other soul, with Chara's soul. Initially, I thought I might paint her as an adversary, like in One By One. But the thought in the mind, and I'll swear it was in Sans's voice, was, "I thought you said the worst person could change."

So I went over what I knew about Chara, and then tried to figure out what could have made her fall down Mt. Ebott with that attitude (within the Harry Potter universe). When I realized the answer, I was horrified. When I pushed it forward to the scene where Frisk converses with Chara's soul, the only full conversation they ever have, I started to cry myself. That's how I knew I got it right.

And that got me realizing I had a theme. It's 'easy' to decide to save people that want to be saved, that deserve to be saved. But what about the people who don't? What about the Charas, the Dracos, and the Filches of the world (I wanted to have a second scene with him... but just couldn't figure it out). Who saves them? Who convinces them that they can be, or deserve to be helped?

In a way, I was inspired by Pixar's "Inside Out". Specifically, inspired by the way Riley just emotionally shuts down, because nobody came to talk to her. Frisk would have gone to her. Would you? I'd like to think I would have. That is, by the way, why Chapter 24 is titled as a question with a prompt. Did I do enough to convince you to forgive Chara? Chapter 11's reviews were very interesting as they came in.

But where to next? People want a sequel... and I want to give you one. But I think one of the things that made this story so successful was that it _wasn't_ a simple retelling of Prisoner, that it had it's own plot to follow... most of the time. I have ideas for individual scenes and plots within 'Goblet', but no full story. Not even a Gaster plot, despite what I wrote above. But give me time to think about it. I'll take suggestions. I'll also take discussion about what the patronuses (Patronii?) of any of my new characters should be... or what house Asriel and Chara belong in.

In closing, I want to thank the reviewers and the people who private messaged me, pushed me to keep going. Especially you, BL. (I stayed determined, didn't I?) And I want to thank the over three hundred of you that decided this was a fiction worth reading. It is, by far, the most popular thing I've ever written. I'm proud of it. While I'm not quite done. I know my grammar needs work, and my spelling is inconsistent. I'm sure I'll reread this a time or two (a full story edit ended 4/22/17), finding awful typos in each chapter each time. That's me. Still, I hope I've done enough to convert from a follower to favorite. And if I haven't (and you got this far anyway), leave a review, or drop a note why I haven't, so I can improve and do better the next time. Nothing encourages writers like those e-mails from FF.N about new reviews, favorites, and follows, even on works than have been up for a long while.

And check out "Underground Saviour" by CherishedRose on DeviantArt. The idea that I've got fanart of a fan story is amazing to me.

...

 **It's ongoing now. Please look for "Harry Potter and Endless Possibilities" elsewhere in this section.**

See you soon.


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